Moon Child

Doctor Harrow gave them a paper with all the studies they will have to do on him, which had earned the boy a frown on his part. That would cost, could his aunt pay for it? He's always been a little different, so it's hard for him to just accept that he feels like a burden. 

The difference is that now the burden has passed down a different owner, from his parents, to his great-aunt. 

The days that follow, he lets himself go with the flow, with some remorse and guilt. At first, he tried to tell his aunt that he didn't need those things. 

"I don't need all those studies, I'm fine. I feel good." He commented as he got into the car, putting on his seatbelt in the passenger seat. 

He sometimes felt like his head wasn't there, and that people looked at him strangely all the time. But it makes sense, Steven pointed out that it was weird that he always wore his gloves. But he couldn't help it, he felt better when the texture was the same as always, rather than having to subject his fingers to new sensory experiences. 

In addition to that, the amount of people who must be touching everything, without knowing where they have put their hands before, is something that makes him cringe. 

"You're a doctor?" She smiled with amusement.

The youngest just looked at her with a grimace. He adjusted his beret, crossing his arms. 

"Then maybe you need them."

"I feel good."

"Yeah? Then do it because I care about you."

He wanted to refuse, to ask her to leave him, but the realization came to him that no one else was going to care about him. As silly as it may seem, it was strange to know that, no one else was going to want him, because he had no one else. Only her. He was alone. 

But even in those moments, he already felt that way, empty. He knows what she tells him is true, yet his jaw clenches.

"I don't need them, and they are very expensive."

"I'm sure I can get them into insurance, you don't have to worry, okay? Let Aunt Taweret be the one to deal with the adult stuff." She started the car. 

He put on his seatbelt, and they drove off. 

"Sometimes people need help, and they don't know it. There is nothing wrong with asking for it, there will be people who need it for a while, others only for certain things. It's the same as when I ask you to put the dishes or wash something."

"It is not the same. He tried to stick to the car door, leaning his head against the window while he watched the other cars."

"Jake. We're going to be okay, okay? But you need to let the doctor try to help you. We can also look for support groups for…"

"For…?" He hissed. His eyes had become somewhat hostile. He doesn't need any group at all. 

The woman was worried about him, but there is no more foolish than a boy at his age, in some way she wants to make him see that she is only worried about him, but it is not that they have been together for so long for him to trust her. 

Doctor Harrow had explicitly told her that it was best to keep the boy calm. 

And she still didn't know if there was anything to worry about, but for her, he had been the reason for that since he arrived. 

Of course, they have had to change some things in the house, it doesn't bother her that he lives with her, or having him around. But she is concerned about his well-being, after all they are family. For Taweret, that was enough. 

During the remainder of the trip, the curly boy did not say anything else either at that moment or in the days that followed. He was serious even when they came to do the studies. He didn't seem in a bad mood either, rather absent. 

Little things she could notice of an odd behavior. Because of course, sometimes the boy was sitting watching static on the television, he seemed almost in a trance. 

Other days, he would talk to someone, usually tense conversations, or at least his voice would alter from time to time. And it did not go unnoticed that if she entered the room, the first thing that happened was that for a few seconds he seemed to ignore her, but if she managed to get him to talk to her, the boy would look next to her, and then at her. As if there was something else there.

She's sure that if she had more time, she could pressure him to tell her everything, but she doesn't, it's not her style. 

She has no interest in just getting the truth out of him, she wants him to feel better. But she doubts that he will ever feel well. Jake has lost his family, you don't recover from something like that so easily, maybe he can lead a normal life, but she knows that for a while, this would only get worse. As if his brain decided when it was time to start grieving, and when to stop, maybe in a time where he felt safe, and she wanted Jake to feel safe. 

She prefers him to be in a safe place, and if he needed something, she would give it to him. He's barely out of his childhood, but she knows how important it would have been for him that his parents where there for him. 

The tests were done and after two weeks, they were both back in Dr.Harrow's office. 

If you ask the guy, he's not a real doctor. And Khonshu does not seem to be a saint of his devotion either. 

On the other hand, the other figure who appears and disappears like a boy running around, seems to avoid both him and Harrow. 

"How are you, Ma'am?" He smiled from beside his desk. He was sitting while reading what the results had been brought.

"Very well, thank you." 

The doctor nodded understandingly as he took out some papers to arrange them in front of both of them. 

"And how have you been feeling, Jake? Tell me what you have done, it would be interesting to know. Sure, if you want to tell me."

The youngest looked at his relative first, with doubt. 

He had to try it, right? Even if there was nothing wrong with him. 

"What will you tell him? That you were giving it a thought of leaving home?"

It wasn't like that, but he knows that if he answers, it can go wrong. So he grimaces. He was sure that Khonshu's threats about making life miserable for him and his aunt were true. Therefore, that had led him into a small spiral of stress. 

"I was… I, uh, I was listening to music." He spoke, licking his lips. 

That had not been a lie. 

"My aunt gave me a record-player, and I found several vinyl recods in town, so I have been listening to that." He nodded energetically, as if doing so proved it was true. 

He had spent time listening to several albums of music from the 80's that he had already learned at this point. All while he danced alone in the room.

The doctor seemed satisfied with the answer, because he didn't say anything. 

He cleared his throat then.

"Well, I have good news, and some changes that we will have to make as well, to improve some aspects." He began speaking. But Lockley didn't need him to tell him anything, he understood that to mean that there was something wrong with him. 

Without meaning to, he had ended up sitting on the edge of his chair little by little so he could see whatever was on that table. 

But the boy could only see papers, numbers, and strange graphs. He couldn't quite understand what they meant. 

The paper in his eyes burned from the center, just enough to keep his gaze on the spot where it was happening, he wondered why, but he did not felt scared. 

It was quite lulling to see how the blade turned from a bright orange to brown until blackening. He liked how it happened, there was no gradual way for it to happen, usually, it was sporadically and in a matter of seconds, there was nothing but ashes. 

His eyes go out of focus, because it seems like he's decided he's going to relax. 

A knock from Khonshu on the table startled him, he realized that several minutes had passed. But above all, he realized the sheet was intact again.

"¿Jake?"

Oh god, his mind felt heavy. But the doctor seemed to want an answer, and his aunt looked at him with interest. Had they been talking to him for a long time?

"I think I would like to go to the river. It's about to rain, it would be interesting to get in, it would be cold." He blurted out without thinking. 

They both looked at him curiously. 

"Did you hear what we said?" The man asked with a smile. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

No. He didn't hear anything. But at the moment that is no longer important, it is not interesting, he has to leave before the rain comes and then they won't let him near. He knows that he will be fine, Khonshu would protect him, but something tells him that he will feel much better if he goes down into the water. 

"Do you understand what's happening, Jake?" 

His aunt had taken him by the arm, he realized then that at some point he had stood up. 

He has to go. 

"The river, the cicadas. Did you know that cicadas are a bad omen for Christians?" He responded, looking at the woman's hand, that although she was firm, she did not mean to hurt him. 

"Jake, what are you talking about?"

"The end of the world. Cicadas announce the end of the world." Nervous babbling. 

"I think you need to sit down." 

Carefully, the woman insisted him to do it, caressing the back of his neck to relax him. 

That helped. At least until she tried to take off his beret, and he got upset again. She withdrew both hands. 

"Okay, okay, I didn't remove anything. You still have it on, 'kay?"

The doctor carefully got up to walk around the desk, just like the other time. But Jake felt strange, he still couldn't feel calm. 

"You must go out. Get out of here, he won't stop you, he's not fast enough." Khonshu hissed. 

"Jake, calm down. Inhale, just breathe." The other voice, on the other hand, was much calmer, and it helped, although he didn't quite know where it was coming from. 

The figure of the bird leaned down until it was over his head. But the boy didn't move, he couldn't just push the doctor away and leave, his aunt hoped he would get better, and if this was the way, he told himself that he had been trying. And also, he liked to see the woman pleased by it, he liked to see her calm. 

He can't do that to her. 

He has to stay. 

"Run away, Jake Lockley, get out of here. I know what I'm saying. Once they find something's wrong, they will make you believe that everything's wrong with you."

The problem is that the dark-haired boy didn't need anyone to tell him, he already believed there was something wrong with him. 

He remained still.

"You'll regret this, kid." 

The voice rang with that promise before it dissolved into a morose growl. He's not quite sure if it just rang in his head or if he heard it outside, he's too focused on the man serving them. 

"Calm down, everything is fine. Just try to focus on this, here." The doctor had approached with difficulty, using his cane to be able to do so, put it aside when he arrived in front of him, then searching for something in his pocket. 

He then took out a small cube that had buttons on one side, a ball on the other, and other small gadgets on each of its faces. Harrow handed it to him, taking his hand and guiding his fingers to show him what to do. Letting him choose the face on the cube that made him feel best the most. 

It didn't take him long to choose the buttons, the older man smiled and nodded in satisfaction as Jake began to calm down. Any hostile intent had begun to dissipate from his eyes. 

"Well, now, Jake, according to your studies, you have been having certain problems. Believe me, even if there is something to worry about, the important thing is that we have a way out of this. You're not alone, okay?" He smiled as he soon returned with his cane to his place. 

"So you already know what he has, right?" Taweret asked impatiently.

"Okay, yes. Many people say they don't like cataloging anything, because it restricts them with a name. But as a doctor, it helps us, and as a patient, it is easier to know what your needs are going to be." He explained softly.

Jake wanted to tell him to just tell out what it was. What was wrong with him. The broken, the poisonous. 

"Jake, you have a type of illness that usually occurs at other ages, either when they are younger, or when they are older. However, you are part of the population that has this discomfort. You have schizophrenia." His voice, although soft, caught the boy's attention enough to keep him focused on himself, although he realized that Jake was trembling. 

"Schizophrenia?" Her aunt spoke. "He is too young. No. Jake can't… schizophrenia?" She spoke in disbelief.

"Well, many studies show that age can be an important triggering factor. You see, many people have the idea that schizophrenia comes due to major trauma. Because of something super shocking. Well, the truth is that it is not like that. Jake may have this due to genetics, and stress." He sighed, looking at her. 

"But he is very young..." 

"We normally say that people who have a genetic predisposition should be very careful between their 15's and their 30's. Since they are very important stages for a person, but also loaded with a lot of stress. Work, career, studies, all of that can impact an individual, and detonate everything."

The woman looked at Lockley, who seemed to be muttering something, although she couldn't hear him, while the boy looked at the ground.

"It can happen for different reasons. There are many things that can contribute to a person's risk of developing the disease, although the main ones are genetics. This factor is hereditary, however, just because someone in a family has schizophrenia, it does not mean that other members of the family also have it or will develop it in the future."

"Well, his mother was… different, of course. But I don't think she had schizophrenia."

"Different?"

The boy felt the cold fingers of his hand, his feet began to get cold, he knew that he had to try to shrink down to keep himself warm. 

The white walls suddenly seemed too bare, and he found himself searching for something to focus on. 

"Well, yes, I understand that she had some difficult moments. But she never went to a doctor, she was not medicated."

Jake knew that wasn't true, his mother had a cocktail ready all the time, and not just prescription drugs, many times there was more behind it. 

He can't bring himself to hate her, but he feels his hands tighten, as if he needed to make a fist to stop the racing thoughts that have begun to come out. He is not crazy, he has nothing, he just needs rest, to be left alone, then will be as good as new. 

It was disorienting at times, the caresses on his face and the way he later realizes they need air. He's on the ground trying to breathe, his body shakes, and is not sure where he is, or why. 

"Swallow. Come on." 

The female voice is heard with anger, there is something passing to her lips, and she can feel a pasty taste, her hand leaves that hand. 

"Mum..."

A cold slap that makes him shrink on the floor as she gets up. He has dropped that strange thing from his lips, and he takes it to keep it in his little hands while, crying, approaches one of the walls that are near the stairs. 

She looks so tall, so big, that he has to swallow the lump on his throat. 

"Swallow. Or…” She hissed, the metallic sound of the belt making the boy immediately stick to the wall in terror. He doesn't need her to end that threat, whatever it may be.

Jake doesn't hesitate before swallowing it, it's a bunch of horrible pasty flavors and he starts to cry when he lets it pass through the throat. His small body trembles and can't help but see blurred thanks to the tears that gather in their small, innocent eyes. 

Sometimes mom could be like that. She wanted him to swallow that, she knows that it is good for him, or so she said. 

She got upset everytime any of them made noise, so she managed to make them silent. 

The screams made her angry, so he swallowed it until he always ended up dizzy, with his body feverish, trembling while he almost always ended up on the floor in some corner of the house. 

Intervals of time could pass in which he did not understand where he was, or why. 

The worst thing is that now, it seems like everyone expects his undivided attention, and although he would love to give it, he knows that his mother was right to give him that. She helped him forget the pain, she helped him be silent, it was better than being conscious.

"I understand, well, as I said, it is just one of the factors. There are people who are triggered by others, it may be precisely due to trauma, due to situations in life where the brain is forced to survive in other ways, but it is not a rule." He tried to explain. Although the blue eyes behind those clear glasses seemed lively and they soon realized that Jake was tense. "Anyway, I want to do some other tests on you, would you be okay with that, Jake? In the meantime, I'll prescribe something to help you."

The boy looked up to try to relax, he forced himself to inhale deeply to release the air, trying not to make it so obvious. 

"I don't need the medication."

If they medicated him, he would feel like those times again, but also, it is said that he will not be able to understand what is happening. And he may feel that dizziness again, he's probably just going to want to be in his room. Would his aunt perhaps want him to take that even then, what would happen if he didn't want it? 

He doesn't like the feeling, but he likes not knowing what's happening. Because at least this way, it meant that he couldn't suffer. 

"You may see it that way right now, but give him the opportunity to help you, it will improve your mood a lot, and it may help with other things."

"My mood is fine." 

"Honey, it's just a help, okay?" Her aunt caressed his arm. 

Again he felt bad for not wanting that. He's supposed to want to be better, she's supposed to want that help, so he had to give in, because, she's the only one who would care about him. If she was seeing something he wasn't, he should trust her. Her mother had taught him, hadn't she? 

Open and swallow. Open, and swallow... he just has to do it now for his aunt Taweret, he can do it.

The problem is that it would be difficult for him to do what they wanted, he felt like he was wallowing against a decision that had actually already been made. 

"Let's do this, Jake," The doctor looked at him attentively. "I'll give you the pills, and you'll decide if you take them. Without your aunt telling you, but I assure you that everything will change if you do it. It will be for your good, but no one can force you to take them."

Of course they could, he was a minor, but perhaps the man knows that with someone like Jake, and in such delicate situations, it is best not to become the patient's enemy. 

"But I don't need those pills." He assured. 

"Sometimes… the mind can be like that. It can make us believe something, and it not be true."

"What is truth if not a belief that everyone arrives at together?" He replied with bad humor. "What happens if my truth is different?"

"Probably so." He agreed calmly. "But the problem is that this is harming you, and you may harm someone in the future. As soon as we have everything, you can come back, and we'll see how it went. But, don't you really want to try? Many kids your age would give anything to get one of the pills I'm going to give you."

That only made him wrinkle his nose softly. Of course, many were at the age to be curious about certain things. For getting high, for trying.

But he is not. He doesn't want medication of any kind, he doesn't even like to take it when he has a fever or the flu. The thought that he would need a pill makes him feel guilty. He was more expense, it also meant more worry for his aunt.

"I'll give you the prescription, your aunt will go get them, while you and I have a little talk, okay?"

He got no response, perhaps that was enough for the man to simply hand a paper to his relative.

The woman patted him gently, indicating that she would return soon before leaving the room.

"Listen, I know you don't like this. But I assure you that it is something treatable. It is not curable, but you can get help with the symptoms. Yeah? It is likely that many things you are experiencing are unpleasant, and will go away with medicine."

"If you are sure that I have that, why would you do more tests on me? What will it do for me to take the medicine?"

"Well, I'm sure. But I also want to know if there is anything else that could be hidden. I have known you for months, I follow your case closely. Medicines will help you see things as they are."

"My case." He repeated suspiciously. 

For the doctor, that was more than interesting. The boy genuinely didn't seem to remember it, that while he didn't take it personally, he wonders if there was some injury that he wasn't seeing. 

This was something he would have to discuss with maybe a couple of colleagues, just to make sure, although he was pretty sure the boy's schizophrenia was evident enough.

"We can also, if you feel comfortable enough, you can be in a support group."

"Don't think of yourself too much just because you've seen me a couple of times, Doc, I don't like to talk." He smiled sideways.

"Jake… How many times have you seen me?"

"Two." He responded with conviction.

"Get awat, get away from here, there's a child in there!"

The sound of sirens, overwhelming. The smell of gasoline, while his eyes see the gravel stuck to him. He realizes that he has to inhale even more, since there is smoke everywhere. Cough almost immediately.

His eyes widen exponentially when he sees the other hand, and he extends his own, crying when the pain comes, crawling, his hand clings to that one. They are the same size, they have the same shape for many, but soon they pushes their hand against so he can feel him closer. 

He feels his heart squeeze in his chest, and begins to cry. The face is full of black olin, and the eyes are red from the smoke of the fire. He can see that the car is overturned and it is difficult for him to slide through the glass.

The hand. He has to reach for the whole hand. Just a little more.

The doctor made just the slightest hint of a grimace, that couldn't be it. They had been there more times, maybe not too many, but he was actually the first doctor to take a look at him at the accident. And it happened only by accident, but due to strange events, the police determined that the boy had to have a regular psychiatrist. 

He had also asked at the time, to know everything about both parents and the family in general, the most he had found was that the mother had attempted suicide, when Jake was barely crawling. 

Furthermore, he could not ignore that the boy had certain things that indicated that he was different. The older man wanted to be able to help him, even with the smallest thing, the boy had suffered enough. 

On the other hand, Lockley had always wanted many things, but most of all, at the moment, he would have liked at least another pair of gloves. The ones he had are well taken care of, but they will start to outgrow him, for the moment they fit just right. He is sometimes afraid that he will make fists with his hands and that the seam will be damaged, or they will simply give in to the pressure until they tear.

When they get home, his aunt does not mention anything about the medicine again, in fact she has given him the small bottle and told that he should take one every twenty-four hours, if he wishes. 

There was a tinge of hope in her eyes, he can't help the pain that comes over him when he sees something like that. Because you don't look at just anyone like that, there is only love there. 

So he ends up grabbing the pills to run away. 

So now he is in his room, a little anxious because as soon as he went up to the attic, he threw the pills on the bed and walked back and forth. 

His aunt won't really give him a choice, will she? At any moment she will enter the attic and tell him that must take that medicine. And he is likely to agree with her. 

He ended up sitting on one of the walls, with his back pressed against it while he looked at the entrance from time to time, waiting for his aunt to come in, to maybe shout something. Whatever.

He ended up getting up to go get the bottle, opening it to look at the pill. It was blue, and he had to leave it on the bed, sitting down so he could put his arms on the furniture while looking at the medicine.

"If you take it, we would never see each other again. These things obfuscate your thinking, they cloud everything, you will no longer be able to see everything I have shown you until now."

He was so tempted to ask what he was supposed to think he had given. But remained silent.

"The best thing would be to take them. They will do you good, the doctor has said it, you will improve."

The second voice was softer, but it was serious, full of determination in what it said, it seemed like a voice sure of its words, unlike him, whose mind ran everywhere. He instead remained silent. 

He wishes he had more cookies to drown out the whispers.

He had the possibility of improving. To feel better, which is what made the most impression on him, after all, he has always felt normal. And has always believed that it is common to be a certain way, or to feel that way; his parents had always assured that sometimes children feel good or bad. Which can sometimes be very intense, but can also be or feel empty. 

Any child at his age is like that, his mother had assured him that he couldn't draw attention like that every time something hurt, or they would always be in the hospital, or with a doctor around. 

He doesn't know if it's normal at this point, because everything indicates that in his delirium, he believes it so. 

"I thought we had a deal." 

"I've never said yes."

He looked at his gloved hands. Carefully took off one of the old black leather gloves, until the palm was exposed. 

There were some small scars on his fingers, and he did the same with the remaining hand so he could see all the small marks it had. He is sure that they will fade with time, because his mother said so, time heals everything. Especially physical injuries. 

"Is it worth abandoning the common good for that thing?" The voice sounded hateful, obviously didn't like the pill. "I'm sure you're not seriously thinking on taking it. Doing so would mean saying goodbye."

He has to close his eyes tightly for a few seconds, before denying, to be able to get any idea that arises out of his mind.

That idea of his aunt coming to tell him something, did not happen, neither that day nor the one that followed. Has he taken the pill before, is this the first time, or maybe it has been taking a while? He's not sure.

He wanted to be able to enjoy things, however, he had never realized how much noise his mind could make. And now that things seemed to be going slowly silently, he feels strange, he doesn't feel like he is himself. In fact, every day he goes by and decides to take the medication, he feels more guilty. 

Because he realizes that the psychiatrist was right. He hated to admit it, but it didn't feel quite right to not be aware that his life had been changing in catastrophic ways. 

But was it so bad to want to be blinded? He just wanted to not be able to realize it, he didn't want the pain of reality. 

The voice of the lunar god was still hovering in his head, and especially that child who seems to appear every time he wants to hit things. 

The same one who tells him to stop, who screams along with him when Jake starts making whimpers and sounds.

Because as strange as it may seem, hurting himself has proven to be an effective way to help him feel real. 

Jake shouldn't be so… deluded, if can call it that, to believe that if he stop taking those pills, his life will go back to what it was. 

But it is so difficult for him to believe that he needs them, that there are times when he can only stare at the medicine for several minutes with a special contempt. The idea of having to take something like that for life was difficult enough. Knowing that other children didn't need it and that he would always be a weirdo, that others were right to label him that way, didn't help at all.

The next time he went to Doctor Harrow, he was only upset to know that the diagnosis had been corroborated by other doctors. He couldn't run away from something like that, maybe could ignore it for a few days. But not his entire life. 

After all, the sounds, the voices, the screams, the physical sensations are too much to bear.

So he ended up with more pills. They promised that they would make him feel better. That the hostility in his person would go away, that he would feel more than apathy, that he would finally understand the meaning of peace. 

He's not too sure about this last part.

He looks at the pills with some suspicion.

He knows that it is the best, although it is more complicated than that, he should be able to know that it is like that, but it doesn't happen, not everything is that simple. They tell him that doing this is the best thing for him, but he doesn't feel like that is the answer or the right thing to do. 

Khonshu is upset, he doesn't know how he knows that, he just assumes that it's true that he is, and not taking the pills will keep the bird's bad mood away, but he doesn't have that luxury, right? Not when he now has a friend, when he has finally managed to connect with someone else. 

This time it is on the outskirts. He doesn't want to go home, where he knows his aunt always looks at him the same way. Like the poor orphan child who needs help, that he can't do things for himself, that he is broken, hurt, that no one could ever know how to repair the damage that has been done to him.

He sits on the banks of the river thinking, it's going to rain soon, he knows it because the sky is cloudy, the air has a certain static sensation, and also that particular smell. 

He closes his eyes for a few minutes, but he doesn't lie down, he focuses on the river that passes at full speed.

"Are you still hesitant to continue taking those pills, Lockley?"

The voice was thick and he felt the cold coming to him, but probably if he ignored it, it would go away. Well, he hoped so. 

"I have to take them, they will do me good. So says Doctor Harrow." He whispers, still not opening his eyes.

"Dr. Harrow doesn't know what he's saying, he doesn't even know what that thing is doing to you. What he's doing to us, doesn't that matter?"

The voice had sounded harsh, but Jake had interpreted it as hurt too, which forced him to look up. That birdman didn't even look at him. If he could be called looking at the emptiness of some large bird bone sockets, on top of a human body enclosed in bandages tight to the body.

He looked at it for a long time, but couldn't tell if it was because he was expecting something more or he simply liked to observe the creature. 

"Throw those pills in the river, Jake."

But the boy held on to the backpack at his side, squeezing the front pocket, as if doing so would protect such medications. 

Khonshu might be right. To some extent, he feels bad when he takes them, he feels off, but he also isn't that bad. It was like tuning into a radio channel, sometimes it's hard to focus on one, because there's too much static, but the pickups make it focus on just one, and that's the weather. 

Who cares about the weather? 

Well, it's still a metaphor, but it feels the same, dull, gray. And he hates that strange feeling of emptiness that comes with that. 

His aunt tells him that the pills cannot take full effect in days, therefore, it is likely that he is suffering from suggestion. But does it? Maybe all of that is real, he just can't see it.

"If you don't throw them away, Aunt Taweret could get hurt." He said after a few minutes, annoyed.

"She says they will work if I take them every day." He replied. Was Khonshu lying to him? Trying to convince him by telling him the pills will make the violence go worse and due that, he will hurt her.

Okay, but was he willing to take the risk? He apparently doesn't know when something is real or not. Nothing assures him that he will be okay, that everything will work out and he will feel good if he doesn't take those things. But, what if the old bird was right and taking them only worsened his mood? If only he messed with his head more. 

It was horrible to feel like you weren't in control of anything, not even your own mind. But it was worse that he doubted that it was real. It couldn't be, because he was fine, he didn't notice strange things until someone else told him. But how could he be sure of something like that? 

Maybe the real weirdos were the others, for thinking that the things he did or the way he acted was abnormal. 

Sometimes all he wants is to be considered one of them. Feel part of something.