This is something I have never told to anyone else:
I used to be able to see these beings when I was a kid, all the way up until the beginning of my teens. I used to call them "the friendly berts" (I don't know why or how I came up with the name), and they were a varying set of beings I was able to see, although there were recurring figures.
They were kind and gentle and friendly, and they always had a kind smile on their face. They never really spoke to me, but they would hang out around me and we'd play together with my toy soldiers and blocks and legos and shit; other times, they would comfort me when I was feeling bad due to my shitty family.
I remember one was a woman with long hair in a flowing dress whose presence was more comforting than my mom's; there was another who had a human shape but appeared to be made of fire who would act encouragingly to me when things were going bad (i.e. when my mom and dad would argue), and there was also one who looked like a stereotypical fur-trapper who would show me neat tricks with his knife. There were at least 6 or 7 others, like a woman who had purple skin color (I thought she was the 'cool' one) and a man dressed like a Roman emperor.
My parents took me to a number of therapists because at first I insisted they were real, although I soon stopped talking about them because I wasn't stupid. My home life was pretty shitty, and I was a real loner at school. My mom and dad both beat me and compared me to my older siblings, and there was just a lot of low-key abuse going on of the emotional and mental kind.
I remember one day when I was 11 (maybe even 12), I woke up and I just couldn't see the "friendly berts" anymore, and I cried and cried so much, just sobbed my heart out in a way that I don't think I have ever done again in my life. My parents actually ended up taking me to a doctor, but all I could say was that I'd had a terrible nightmare over and over, and I remember as we drove back home from my clinic my parents argued over me, calling me "the crazy kid", and when we got home, my brother and sister groaned "ughhhh Bernd is crazy, why isn't he normal?".
I cried myself to sleep that night and I was never able to see them again. I still remember them real vividly, but my drawing skills are shit, so I couldn't even put them to paper even if I wanted to.
I wonder if I have some type of mental disorder, but I don't know. I think I've done decently for myself, anyways. I went to college and left home and moved to Dallas for a good job, so I think I turned out alright.
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