Nobody knows the real me. Nobody knows how many times I've cried in my room when nobody was watching. Nobody knows how many times I've been let down. Nobody knows how many times I've felt like I'm about to snap, but I just don't for the sake of others. Nobody knows the thoughts that go through my head when I'm sad, how horrible they truly are. Nobody. Knows. Me. — Jonathan Harnisch

Nobody. Knows. Me.﻿

What if you had such severe schizophrenia that your life was just one hallucination after another? And what if people kept trying to drag you back out of those hallucinations, to prove that you weren’t living in reality, and that reality was nothing more than a psych hospital? Would you go? Would you make that leap back into reality, leave such a vivid life, for ceramic walls and metal gurneys?

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Nobody. Knows. Me.

Nobody. Knows. Me.