Disclaimer: I do not own Spongebob and this is not really how he came to be.

I can not begin to tell you the severity of my case. I am but a mere fry cook trapped in a prison made up of lies and deception.

Recently I have been thinking about my pineapple back in Bikini Bottom, about my pet snail who I have raised since he was a baby, and about my friends who abandoned me here many years ago and have never once come to visit.

Now I look around at the polluted wasteland where I live and find those memories of the past to be a sort of therapy...the only thing that keeps me sane.

I have been told by the people who live here that I have lived here my whole life under the name Jonathan Hellman.

This, as you can imagine, is very hard for one sponge to soak up. I have been to the Psychiatrist many times in the past two years and they continually try to convince me that there is no Spongebob...but I know better.

As I sit here, in the corner of the room with the padded walls I can not help but think of escape. I am in a hospital in the middle of a city and because of this the water is dirty. To pass time in this seemingly endless sea of boredom, me and my friends like to watch the garbage float around the room and bet on which peice will get furthest. The water in this room is a dark shade of brown and I am unable to see very far in front of me. I have never seen my friends, but I know they are there. We have long discussions and talk frequently about possible escape, escape from this seemingly endless dream.

Oh, have I not told you? I am dreaming and am unable to wake up. Once I snuck a knife from the kitchen and I cut myself...I enjoyed it. Constantly I try to wake myself up by means of inflicting pains upon myself, and when that fails I turn to my friends and have them hurt me.

The shrink, have I told you about him? He asks about my friends but I would never tell him about Lian and Joseph, for you see I am no rat. I go to his office once a week and every discussion is aimed at my hurting myself and my identity. Like a child who can't have some candy he will not trying to convince me that his way is best. About how I am not Spongebob.

They are on to me and if you are reading this, I am dead. they will have killed me in an attempt to prevent my escape. This letter is my last attempt to tell the world who I am. I Am Spongebob and that is my story.

Sincerely yours- Spongebob

Three people stood over the letter which they had been handed moments before by a nurse and were unable to believe what they were reading. They could see him through the small window, bouncing off the padded walls and singing. They were only able to make out one line of the song,'Who lives in a pineapple under the sea', but they did not know what it was about.

There was no water in the room, and there was never a Lian or Joseph and two months before he had refused to eat, claiming that he would filter feed. This was the only time they had ever visited when he was awake, because they could not bare to see 16 year old Jonathan Hellman in this condition.

"He's crazy." one of the people said. "My brother is a looney."

"Douglas don't say that about your brother." The woman standing there said.

They could do nothing but stare as they watched him continue to run into walls, falling several times as he did. What had caused this sudden outburst of insanity in him? They had checked and there was never such a thing as Spongebob and they thought the Idea was upsurd any way. A sponge with a pet snail, whose friends were a squirrel and a starfish.

Now they looked away and went into the hallway. The mother broke out into tears as she spoke.

"Why...Why did this happen to us?" she screamed out and ran down the hall. Her family quickly followed.

"Mom, its not your fault." Douglas said to her as he put his hand on her shoulder.

With another outburst of tears she turned and leaned her face on his shoulderf and cried, free of shame.

"Don't blame yourself." her husband paused, than added "Nothing could have been done to prevent this, and I am sure that this will all be over soon."

Slowly they made their way back down the hall and into the room with the window that looked into the padded room. He was stairing straight at them, a devilishly evil smile spread across his fac. What they did not know was that he did not see them but Sandy, Patrick, and Squidward.

"You have come back to get me." he said running at the window and staring into the small room which had two small plastic chairs and a wooden table in it.

Again she began to break out into tears. Tapping on the window he began to speak again.

"Sandy...Patrick, you have finally come to rescue me." he said make his hands into a binocular shape to remove the glare.

Blankly, they stared and tried to think of what to say. They could not incourage his hallucinations and words did not come easy.

"You guys have got to meet Lian and Joseph. They have kept me company during my stay here." Jonathan, 'Spongebob', said.

Originally he had been placed in there at the age of seven when the false identity first began. At first there had been no problem and the doctors planned to release him later that year but decided against it when he started to hurt himself.

Quietly they turned and exited the room with their son yelling for them to stop. They had given up all hope and only Douglas turned around to see his brother one last time. He decided at that moment that he would make Spongebob a reality and immediatly set out working on a cartoon. The theme song was based on the on line that they had heard, 'Who lives in a pineapple under the sea'.

Authors Note: Like the other authors on fanfiction I do hope that someone out there read this and enjoyed it.