text: I am not as crazy as everyone thinks I am. In fact, I’m not crazy at all, but what was I to do? Growing up in a big family makes it hard to feel distinguished. Everybody is always running around, screaming, getting better grades than you, getting more spoiled than you, it’s only natural that I started to act, let’s say, *special*. And since I went to school with my siblings, well, it was only natural to keep up the act at school too. It was all fun and games at first, it didn’t take much to make people think something was wrong, jumping more than was needed when my brother touched my shoulder, getting defensive faster than usual with my sisters, it was almost *too* easy. The thing is, people get used to it, you become known as the “stressed kid” at school, but no one thinks you’re *crazy*, so they stopped paying attention to me, my siblings were doing way more interesting things than me, of course, so I had to become crazier. I started rocking back and forth when watching tv, started mumbling to myself, I started replying to my brothers when they hadn’t asked a question and got offended by things my sisters hadn’t said, it didn’t take long before the attention was on me again. And god was it blissful to have that attention again. My parents eventually got me a psychiatrist, which was the epitome of being interesting. You *must* be pretty interesting for a psychiatrist to keep seeing you, right? I mean, those guys study for *years* to get where they are, if I can fool them, I can fool anyone. The day my psychiatrist told my parents I would need to be hospitalised I was ecstatic. What could be better than to be *constantly watched*? I was finally the star of the show. It all started crumbling though when I really did start to hear my siblings when they weren’t there, and I *knew* they weren’t there because I had been sent into isolation for getting into a fight, again. I heard my brother call my name in the left corner, I heard my sister ask if she could braid my hair in front of the door, I *felt* them near me. That was the first time it happened, but since then it has happened again, and again, and again, always at times when I know I’m alone. They’re always saying the same thing now. “Look at your file.” There’s a law or something that says that hospitals are legally obligated to show you your file if you ask for it, and after sleepless nights of my siblings telling me I need to look at it, I finally cracked. I wish I hadn’t. You see, the thing is I’m not *really crazy*, it’s all an act, and it wasn’t supposed to go this far. I just wanted attention and with what’s in my file, I think they might’ve mistaken me for someone *extremely* similar to me. Yes, that must be what happened. &#x200B; You see, my file says I’m an only child.