Insanity

I walked down the streets of my village that night, seeing curious sights. Wait, what was that? That man has no head. I walked over to him to see what was wrong. Something bit my leg, a red splotch as it looked. I put my hand on the mans invisible head, and heard him yelling at me, "Stop! You're insane!" .He was right. I was insane. Psychotic visions haunted my mind, and I couldn't help but believe them. Insanity was something different than craziness. My mind was fractured and because of it, so was my spirit. Whoa, what's that over there? A twisted mind, like mine, he looked desperate...
My trains of thought are always lost like what just happened, the torture is worse than the pain. Everyone look down on me like I'm... crazy. But I'm not, I'm insane... craziness is a type of action, but if you're insane like I am, it means that it's not your fault you act crazy, because there's nothing you can do about it. Millions of people stab me with their eyes every day, and I can't help but believe I'm alone...