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Blind Schizoid

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[RECORDING 385 TRANSCRIPT]

[PATIENT 1279, DECEMBER 9TH, 1942]

>PSYCHIATRIST: The device is recording now. Now please explain, in the best detail you can, these visions you have been having.

>PATIENT: Well, I cannot explain my experiences quite clearly to someone who has the ability to see, I can try my best. I am [...] err, I was legally blind, which does not mean that I was completely without my vision, but it meant that I could not see well enough to tell what is in front of me. Colors blended into blobs, forms that I couldn't make out well enough to determine what is real and what I was simply making up myself. I was never able to see, so even if the blends of color did look remotely like something, I wouldn't even be able to conjure the words to explain it to you. The [...] the things that I saw at night were the worst. The colors darkened, and the shadows begin to blend, and move across the ceiling. They spun in my mind, moving at a much quicker pace than the ceiling fan, and at one point, I vomited because of them. Of course, my parents thought it was just my imagination. I turned the fan off the next night, and [...] well, they were still there.

>PSYCHIATRIST: So you continued to see these [...] shadows?

>PATIENT: Correct. They got gradually worse over time. I began to see them in daylight soon enough. The colors that once blended turned gray with these figures at times. It was hard to pinpoint walls, or people, or anything but the shadows. I thought that my vision was getting worse, so I ignored it for as long as I could.

>PSYCHIATRIST: What did your parents think by this point?

>PATIENT: [...] Well, when I finally told them, they agreed that it was just my vision fading [...] so; they took me to the doctor, who agreed as well. I forced myself to believe it, but the figures became much more [...] real.

>PSYCHIATRIST: How so?

>PATIENT: [...] [SIGH] they weren't as blurred out as everything else around me seemed to be, I guess. They were more defined, easier to depict, than anything else ever was. They had faces, and they were the most horrifying things I had ever come into contact with [...] Before, I could point out my Mother's face, I could find a wall without having to run into it, but after the shadows came, I couldn't see anything but these terrifying [...] things! I could hardly function; I had to have someone escort me, even around my own home. I felt [...] useless, I guess. I felt scared. I wanted to stab my own eyes out just to get them out of my mind [...] but when my vision finally left me [...] I still saw them. I still SAW them. They're the only thing I see now. They talk to me sometimes. They whisper over my own thoughts, but I can never even tell what they're saying. They laugh at me. There aren't even colors or people to help lighten things up; it's just the darkness and the shadows now.

>PSYCHIATRIST: Calm down, please. Has the medication been working?

>PATIENT: They [...] they tell me not to take the medication. They say that it's poison.

>PSYCHIATRIST: There's no need to worry. It's to help you.

>PATIENT: They say that you're lying!

>PSYCHIATRIST: You cannot listen to figments of your imagination. I will have the nurse make sure that you take all of your pills tonight, alright?

>PATIENT: [...]

>PSYCHIATRIST: Alright?

>PATIENT: Okay. Thank you, sir.

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