I'm sat in a mental hospital feeling stressed. Minimal voices for nearly a week now, so starting to feel like a normal human being again. On a good day, I hear less than a dozen audible suicide command prompts, in and around my head. I hear them as clearly as I would hear your voice. There's a big difference between hearing voices and feeling depressed, you know. Feeling down in the dumps in a general sense is what I would call depression, reflected from gambling debts, divorce, redundancy, car repairs and the like, but hearing voices is oppression. They obliterate your natural thought processes. It's like having an evil Siasmese twin who can read your mind and delights in taking pleasure from tormenting your soul from the inside out.
Being surrounded by genuinely mentally-ill people in a controlled environment when one is nothing but the unwitting victim of psychotronics is in itself a kind of mild torture. I've been harassed, hounded and humiliated from pillar to post. I've been kept awake and running scared on the streets for nights on end, countless times. In the height of my induced delirium, I escaped from one hospital and broke into another. I've been put through unimaginable mental suffering. And for what? Why? What was my crime? Oh yeah, I forgot — being sat at home. All I ever did was sit at home.