It is in the best FINANCIAL interests of pharmaceutical companies and government public officers in mental health industry, to force drugs on people who have no illness at all, and to make people believe they are mentally ill when there's nothing wrong with them apart from a lack of confidence in themselves.
I've weathered the storm of the blanket of government lies and deceptions to prove beyond any doubt that I'm the one with the only TRUE story; because I am mentally stronger than 99% of the population thanks to my life-long companions and a remarkably perfect set of DNA sequences which makes me 100% incorruptible with a memory like a jigsaw puzzle.
Hearing 'people' talking to you who you can't see doesn't necessarily mean you are suffering an auditory illusion and mental illness. There are multiple probabilities that involve hearing the voices of 'people' that really do exist, you just can't see them.
You may be hearing the voices of people linked to the illegal medical research implants in your mastoid air space, (see mine below criminally inserted through my left ear circa 1997)
Or you may be hearing the voices of people whose origin is still unexplained but are usually falsely identified as 'spirits of the dead' or 'gods' being a realist I'm more inclined to believe they're neither spirits or gods.
I'd love to be able to publish a photo of my paternal grandmother, but some arsehole stole it from me in the 1980s when they stole my photo for the criminally false police publication, BROTHERS IN ARMS to publish my visual identity as a murder victim they had fabricated as in the 1980s the government KNEW as substantiated FACT what I'm about to tell you about my paternal grandmother's 1972 death and my 1977 motor vehicle accident; and a bunch of other equally related and proved 'other world' facts. I ask, what's the best way to discredit someone, like me, who can singlehandly tear down the multi-billion dollar mental health industry?
I was 16, it was either 4 or 11 June 1972, I had just kissed my grandmother goodbye after a regular Sunday visit, (her youngest son, my male parent, made a point to visit her every or every second Sunday. His dad, (Arthur Francis) died in 1925, the year he turned 2.) as I moved away from her I heard my life-long unseen companions tell me just about these exact words, One said “You'd better say a proper goodbye because you'll never see her again.” The other ticked off the first for being so blunt then added “You won't see her for a long time because she's coming with us but you will see her again.”I went back and kissed and hugged my grandmother, whispering into her ear that I loved her and would miss her.