Last night was a nightmare than dragged on for weeks.
I was living with my partner in an apartment we had just started a lease on, when my mom visits. I revert into a shell and do everything she said, which included packing a bag and boarding a train with passengers all my own age. Hours later, I arrive at a Mental Health Hospital for Youth.
I grab my phone out to call my partner, realizing it’s battery life is almost over. I make a quick call, begging him to come pick me up. He says he’s on his way and my phone dies.
With relief, I sit outside with others and wait. A woman comes out and forms everyone in a line. When I tried to explain that this was a mistake and I wasn’t supposed to be here, she just nodded and pushed me along inside with the rest.
They stuck me in a stone cold room, and fed me once every other day. I had no clue why my partner was taking so long to come get me.
One night, the ground shook and the building rumbled like an earthquake and screams of people were everywhere. I could hear there feet thump as they ran passed my door. I pounded on the door for someone to let me out, but I couldn’t even hear myself over the roaring.
The world silenced after that night.
The food stopped coming. The electricity gave out. The only light I had was from the crack of the door when the sun was out. I clawed at the door for hours out of each day, to the point where my nails we’re down past the quick, raw with scabs and blood.
When I started to get really weak, I used to think I would hear his voice calling from the halls. I eventually gave up pounding on the door and screaming in hopes of anyone ever hearing me.
There are rare times when the hallucinations I have can be incredibly beautiful. My mind has let me see and do the impossible, things that I know no one but me will ever experience; seeing other worlds, seeing dead loved ones, flashbacks to the past so real it seems like time travel. It is quite humbling to know that my mind can give me what others can only dream of. Other people’s fictions have been my reality. Naturally those things aren’t real to others, no one else can see what I do, but for me my mind makes them as real as the real world we all live in. It’s all subjective. But as I said, those amazing times are incredibly rare. I have schizophrenia because A broken mind will instead torture and cause pain. My mind has put me through unimaginable horror and those other worlds I’ve seen are more often than not p my mind is broken and a broken mind does not have a person’s best interests at heart. laces of mutilation, corpses, darkness, monsters and death. I’ve seen and lived in hell. I’ve watched my loved ones die in the worst possible ways over and over again. I’ve been controlled and manipulated into things I wish I had never done by voices. I’ve been forced to relive the very worst memories from my past through flashbacks, unable to change a thing. I have believed I am dead, that I am a god, that the world would end at any moment, that my father would kill me as a child and for the last few years I have struggled with the belief that I am no longer in the real world but instead in a catatonic state dreaming this world and replaying the very experiences that drove me to insanity. All those are only the positive symptoms. The negative symptoms make life virtually impossible. Not being able to feel emotion the way you should, not able to cope or communicate with other people, becoming withdrawn from society, living a life that seems only like existing from day to day, unable to cope with a job, unable to go out because of the extreme anxiety it causes. I’d say it’s 10% blessing, 90% curse.
I don’t have the energy to keep up with writing details of each nightmare anymore. I just want to get past the memories of them and go on with my day.
I can’t sleep even if I tried. I don’t stay up late on the computer. I’m physically and mentally exhausted to the point of reality loss. Last night I couldn’t even shut my eyes until 6 a.m. I feel like crying all the time, for no reason all. My eyes have gone from red to full blown purple that I can’t even cover up with makeup anymore. I’m not so worried about nightmares at this point, I just want to sleep throughout the night.
(Un)fortunately, my boyfriend can’t sleep either due to copious amounts of pain and restlessness, so we’ve kept each other miserable company.
He keeps me smiling though.
everything about these thoughts are so fucked up.
Last night was just awful. I woke up with the taste of vomit in my mouth.
I was in a cold, grey holding cell. A midevil room.i knew I wouldnt be here long. Huddling in the fetal position in the corner furthest from the door. I was past the point of hysterics and crying, I was staring numbly into nothingness, inviting death. My toes were so cold the joints were locked up and in pain from any tinge of air touching me. My nose was beyond irritated from running dry and bloody. The fingers had gone through rigor mortis without my brain registering the fact that I am dead. Whether I chose to acknowledge my faint heartbeat or not, this was not living. This was not a life. This was a dead, empty carcass waiting to stiffen and decompose.
I chose to not remember any life I had prior to these last breaths, nor imagine any “future” that could have been. This body is not dying, this body is already dead.
They forgot about me when they decided to vacate the land. I only hear what I think are rats scuffling outside the doors.
Oh believe me I tried leaving when my energy existed, I scratched and the cracks between the door and the wall until my nails peeled off completely; and even then I continued until my fingers were raw and bleeding.
When they left, they forgot to release me, also forgetting to give me food or a drop of water.
I havent even the energy for tears or feelings anymore. Im done grieving; just let this brain stop thinking and let this body die.
Maybe this is what death is.
Just another chasing dream. I know your behind me, I know im tired from running but I don’t dare slow down or give up. I may stumble and fall but ill be damned if I let this creature reel me in.
Thursday, October 4th, 2012
These nightmares are seemingly endless, I’m actually beginning to lose hope that things will ever amend. The only thing to look forward to are the waking hours that I can attach to what I perceive as “reality.”
It’s terrifying, it really is. The silhouettes of each nights passing grasp on to my day- to- day actions. It’s almost as if the break-throughs are falsifying and soaking into whats “real.”
It’s always dark here. I’ve visited this place one too many times before. The streets are lit by ancient lamps, the roads are paved and covered in a slick layer of water from the nights mist. The roads aren’t supposed to be this empty. It’s expected that all the shops would be closed, but not a soul other that a blind possum haunts the roads. Something is not right. Something is very, very wrong. I walk these streets for what feels like weeks before I see a light on in one of the windows above a shop. I second guess myself, I shouldn’t disturb someone at this time of night. In the momentary silence of thought, I was interrupted. A sound so pleasant I stopped mid-thought to dedicate my life to listening. I followed that noise, without knocking I went inside this home, I followed the stairs up an arched hallway. Step by step, note by note I was falling in love with this melody. There will always be something about the piano that makes me fall in love. A shadow at the piano was not human. A shadow playing this melody had me wrapped around it’s finger. I became mindless, I now belonged to this demon.
September 2nd, 2012
Just another chasing and hiding dream. They want me back, I’ve neglected them for far too long.
Saturday, September 1st, 2012
In a house, pacing the hallways. Each time I reached for a doorknob; locked. Reach, locked. Reach, locked. Locked. I was in an empty home with this sinking feeling that I needed to seek refuge in one of these rooms. That the answers lay behind one of these doors, each just waiting for me to walk through them. I tried kicking them down, but I just didn’t have the strength to even make one budge in the slightest. I looked through the kitchen for what might have been keys, but there were none. I heard the front door squeak open. Two foot steps, followed by the door pumping shut, followed by the locks click. I ran into the hallway, rattling each doorknob, silently pleading for one to please just open even though I’ve tried each one many times over and over.