More late night thoughts. My brain seems to be stuck on overthinking lately.

What if authors are really high-functioning schizophrenics, or some other mental disorder where we hear voices in our heads, but we're logical enough to know they're not real and so find different outlets for them to make those voices be quiet?

This is actually a thought that's crossed my mind more than once. Here's some backstory...

My grandma was also a writer. When I was little, she took me to writer's retreats, though I was too young to full appreciate the opportunities offered there. She never published, but she was always writing. Fantasy stories, journalling, letters. She just loved writing.

And as she grew older, she became less able to differentiate what was real and what was fantasy until eventually she believed she lived in a world where the rooms moved on railways at night and people hid needles in their hands so it hurt when they touched her.

And I worry sometimes if that's my future, because I also hear voices in my head, and I also write all the time, and I love my life right now, but it also worries me sometimes...

^^^ And this is the kind of stuff that keeps me up late at night and why I sometimes sleep with cartoons on so my brain has something else to focus on.

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