[ CW ] Show a character suffering from a mental disorder without naming it .

I exist. This is an undeniable fact. I am a physical being and I can observe those around 
 me clearly. I feel emotions. I communicate and engage in discourse. I am sentient and 
 knowledgable about what is happening around me. I don ’ t live though. I just exist. I know too 
 much. I can hear what people think. I know it may seem cliché and that everyone would love 
 this power, but that ’ s wrong. This power is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. It 
 makes my life a living hell. Looking into the eyes of another person instantly connects me to 
 their thoughts. If you think this is cool, wait. What you think is only a fraction of what is 
 happening in your brain. I hear everything. I hear what you choose to ignore. I hear the dark, 
 evil thoughts your mind represses. I hear constant judgment during conversation. I hear people 
 insulting me and saying horrible things about me inside their head, while smiling and nodding on 
 the outside. This power has ruined my life. I can not have friends. Knowing constant judgment is 
 occurring is worse than speculation. You don ’ t know pain until you look into your mother ’ s eyes 
 and hear her think about how horribly disappointing and unaccomplished you are. You don ’ t 
 know pain until you look into an acquaintance's eyes and hear their thoughts of suicide and 
 self­hatred. All that this power has taught me is that we live in a dark world and everyone hates 
 everyone else. 
 I hear the voices sometimes even when I ’ m not looking into someone ’ s eyes. At night, I 
 lie awake, staring at the ceiling whilst the voices in my head wage a war against each other. All 
 of the hatred and evil thoughts boil over when there ’ s silence. The voices get louder and the 
 world gets darker. They tell me over and over again all the awful things others think about me. 
 They tell me all the awful things I think about myself. They remind me why I will live and die 
 alone. They tell me to just kill myself now. Get it over with. Spare myself the agony of this 
 lifetime. I ’ ve gone to therapy. I ’ ve gone to psychiatrists. Every time, I get the same diagnoses. I 
 am not insane. I genuinely hear the thoughts of those around me. I am afraid of talking to 
 people. I am afraid of eye contact. I am afraid of seeing anyone ever again because others ’ 
 thoughts will slowly wear away at my weaning resilience to the rest of the world. 
 All I want is to be able to silence the voices. They tear me apart. They find my smallest 
 weaknesses and every last chink in the armor remaining. I don ’ t know how to silence them. I 
 don ’ t know how to make them quiet. All they do is make me live in fear and slowly rip away 
 everything I love and shred it until it is merely a pile of ashes. I can not have friends: I am afraid 
 of making my weaknesses visible. The thoughts would be unbearable. The voices get louder 
 and louder every single day. I don ’ t know what to do. All I want is silence. 
 There is only one thing I fear more than the voices that live inside my head: death. What 
 if I do earn silence? If I ’ m dead, I won ’ t be able to experience it. The voices have been around 
 as long as I can remember. I can look into your eyes and hear everything you think about me. I 
 can hear your darkest ideas. I can hear your darkest whispers of hatred and sadistic thoughts. I 
 can hear your sexual fantasies and your biting remarks. I just want out. I just want the freedom 
 to live, instead of just existing. Is that too much to ask? I just want life away from the constant 
 fear and hell that is my life.
