It said my name. Clearly. I could discern it and understand it and turn toward its direction. At first, it was a nuisance. I did not realize what was happening. Too busy to notice. Playing loose and fast with reality, as though it would always be there. Twice I asked, “who keeps calling my name?” Stares. Laughter. I didn't ask again.
The tinnitus is maddening. I have tried everything. It has become so loud that I cannot hear. Worse in the evenings. Sometimes, it is the only thing. Period. The only thing. My entire existence is a constant high-pitched sound eating at my brain.
Then my eyes started making fun of me. Kaleidoscope eyes. They are so dark that if you see them in the right amount of shade, they look like anime girl doe-eyes. Big. Round. Black. And now. They hate me.
I don’t do well with patterns. Any kind of patterns, but especially busy ones. They move, zooming in and out, in and out, in and out. It is as though my eyes are telescopes, not necessarily focusing as much as making things bigger and smaller really, really fast. Over and over until I have to turn away. I have asked other people if they see the same things. Only once I asked. I have tried looking online, looking to see if it has a name, if other people have this problem. Nope. Nothing. Pages and pages full of optical illusions and hallucinations and none of them reproduce what I see.
Of course I know the first reaction. Go to the doctor. Go to the doctor. Go to the doctor. And tell him what? I am hearing voices? I am seeing things that are not there?
The tinnitus is incurable. The other two things will guarantee me a first-class suite at the schizo farm.
Sometimes, it is so loud it makes my ears hurt. My eyes make my head hurt. And my name has become the enemy.