Dementia roleplay starters

It was a miserable isolation, a severe chastisement…

An extremeness which wasn’t allowed to someone like
him. No, it was unacceptable.

            Impermissible…
                                        and so real.

A squalid cold room with a hole instead of window. This
was his place now… They thought these concrete walls
have already become his prison. But what they didn’t know
was that his prison forever was inside his very own mind…
More cracky than these walls, more maimed than the souls,
what died in here before, more troubled than a living being
could imagine. Oh, it was painful… He felt how every of his
thoughts hit against his frail skull, just like doomed prisoners
in the other chambers used to throw themselves against the
ground and walls. And they cried, oh how piercingly  they did…
every instant, every second, forcing his soul to wail.

                   But he was   s  i  l  e  n  t  .   Now he was…

Not able to resist those nightmares anymore. They had faces.
Ugly and frightful. And they always watched him with hunger.
They came when they wanted to come. They overtook him
wherever he happened to stay. The night wasn’t their limit
now and the day stopped to be safe. Powerful and terrifying
shadows stifled him with their steadfast gaze, they left bruises
on his skin as a gift and bloody scratches as a reminder of
their inevitable return. They devastated him, leaving no place
for memories and hope. Everything he was now was a mere
little living corpse, afflicted, disabled, exhausted…

His eyes were colorless, staring into nowhere. They lost their
wondrous shine and turned into glass darkly, a lifeless mirror.
They barely recognized anyone, who appeared before them
and could barely discern anything. Nothing mattered. There
was nothing.

Feeble hands placed together. Dark circles under his eyes,
dry tracks of tears on withered pallid cheeks, crimson marks
as the evidence of his being beaten, wounds and messy
hair… he was no longer the earl, but a helpless dying creature.

His mental desease reached its apogee. The madness
bloomed like a garden, sucking the life out of his frail body.
Some people still tried to safe him, yet without avail. It was
a curse that couldn’t be healed, insanity that couldn’t be absorbed.

            ❝ — Why won’t I… ❞

His lips moved faintly. The voice what spoke to him… it was so close.

The boy lifted his head slowly, casting his blank glance at the
dark-haired man. His face… it was famiiar.

        ❝ pretend ❞

                   His husky voice murmured in low tone.

                                                    ❝ why won’t I… ❞

       His eyes returned to the uknown point. He gasped quietly.

             ❝ …I’ve tried. ❞

                                      ❝ they don’t believe me. ❞

                  ❝ they don’t believe me… ❞