The echo

The echo boomed near and past my left ear. I couldn't make out the noice or voice.

Then, clear as a bell, I heard the voice of my deceased grandmother. The voice was telling me that she loved me and was proud of me. At first afraid I would say nothing. But after repeatedly hearing her voice, I would respond. Then it would grow to full conversations. People would usually stare at me for my looks. My long lashes.

My violet colored contact lenses. My purposely messy hair. My clothes, my makeup, my shoes, and wardrobe choices. My demeanor. But now people would stop and stare at me because my lips moved. And I would talk to myself. Suddenly; after a period of time during another episode, I would be bombarded by a thousand voices. The voices never told me to harm anyone. Although; one would tell me to harm myself. And I would have conversations between people I knew were gone. And some I didn't know or recognize. I remembered that someone once told me there were ancient native American burial grounds under our home.

As for my sanity... You can say that lapse of time from one episode to the next when these things would occur that would be every year around the same time- I was crazy. I am crazy. But I never knew what to make of what was occuring to me.

I was diagnosed with Major Depression PTSD Anxiety Schizo-effective disorder bi polar type. I also went to a neurologist to breakdown how is this phenomenon occuring to me in relation to my brain or physical health. And there is no explanation. I feel so alone. I don't tell many other people when this occurs. I just hide. And how did something affectionate between a grandmother and grandson turn to this. I will never know. I thought I might be possessed or blessed or blessed by the angels. I wasn't sure. But a trusted priest performed an exorcist and said I wasn't possessed. The voices left for some time now. I'm not sure if they will ever return. I just take my medicine and enjoy good times. Enjoy life. And now when people look at me they see my bald head, my nose, my freckles, or wrinkles. I do miss my grandmother's voice. I wonder if it will ever return.