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Skitzoaffective

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Skitzophrenia

What is reality?

I just needed to take it slow. I needed to take it one step at a time. There was no rush. Yet, I couldn't hesitate. I had to go through to the fullest. I couldn't stop once I started.

I opened the door and looked around. There was nobody on the desolate streets, only the lights from far off shone through. I took the first step and looked around. There was no one. I took a deep breath and took the next step down.

I was already a quarter of the way there. It was only across the street. I looked down the road, realizing there were no cars. There was nobody. It was comforting to me. I took another step, looking around again. I finally saw someone come out of the store just ahead. I stopped in my tracks. I needed to stay calm. You’re sick.

I looked at him, his mouth changing shapes as he spoke. He began to walk away, his red eyes glaring at me. I could only hope he meant me no harm. He was soon out of sight as I took another step, examining my surroundings again. I looked up at the sky, which suddenly flashed between gray and blue. I shuddered in fear.

This soon stopped as I stepped into the street. I saw a single truck in the distance, rapidly advancing toward me. It had horns like a demon, and inside was a heavy man drinking whisky intently. He had a dapper smile on his face, and seemed to pay me no heed. The truck raced and raced, closer and closer.

It just narrowly missed me as I took another step into the street. I followed the truck down with my eyes as it faded. Another step. Nobody. I was safe for the moment. I looked up into the sky again and saw a plane flying overhead. I heard screams from the plane. I had to ignore it. I had to ignore the shame, I had to ignore the sorrow.

I was almost across the street now. It would just be a few more steps. I just had to focus. I just had to zone the rest of the world out. I closed my eyes, hoping to null everything around me out. In the darkness I saw little creatures with red eyes, almost resembling rats. Only they had no body, they were just a form of shadows, with malevolent faces. It was even more frightening in there.

I opened my eyes to find myself by the store. I had made it to the store. I just had to make it through the store, obtain my product, and then leave and return home. It sounded so easy. Deep down I knew it would not be. I entered through the set of automatic double doors. As I walked through I saw the image of a man being crushed between the doors in my mind. I shrugged it off, and pursued forward.

I went down the aisles, coming across a large portly woman. She had a long tongue that hung outside her mouth, little black points on it. She eyed me, her eyes flashing between blue and green. I tried to ignore her as I walked past her. Freak. Failure.

I shivered and ignored her to the best of my ability. I approached the counter in which a man in a dark suit stood, tall and muscular. “Can I help you?” No. I looked at him curiously, trying to gauge his response. “Ye- yes. I have a prescription here.” I muttered and handed him the piece of paper as he examined it. You are weak. You are a coward. “Yes. I’ll be right back with the medication.” I hate you.

I tapped my foot, impatient. I heard the portly woman come up behind me. She said nothing, only looked at me with her piercing eyes. “Ah, Seroquel. Here it is. All right sir, your payment is already covered.” He handed me the bottle as I looked into his face, two identical heads attached to it. They both had the same facial features, speaking the same way. You’re covered on the road to demise. I left the store, looking back at the woman as she approached the counter.

The TruthEdit

I have schizophrenia. I do not look at things the way anybody else does. I suffer. Every day is a struggle. I have no conception of what is real and what is fake. I’m terrified to leave my own home. I hear voices, I see things that are not there. It is only when I am on my medication that I can see the world for what it is. Yet even the medication in itself is frightening. I become nauseous. I can't sleep for days. I can barely think. I've gained a significant amount of weight due to the medication. I am a robot, but at least I'm free.


The next time you see a person on the street talking to themselves, think about their life. Think about where they are. They do not choose to be where they are. They are there due to mental illness.

They are there due to the unfair nature of life. Before judging them, think about how fortunate you are to be in the state that you are in. Nobody wants this condition, but some, like me, have it and cannot escape it.

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