0 comments

Fiction Sad Teens & Young Adult

    My life has been a series of mishaps and misfortunes. At least, it has been in my eyes. It seems that everywhere I go I run into trouble or find myself feeling pain. I just wish there was something that I could be thankful for. But it seems that I'm to selfish to even try.

    My childhood was, let's just say, less than good. I refuse to remember most of it, but what I do remember seems to make me feel like a mistake. My father was neglectful and my mom just wasn't around. I grew up taking care of myself and therefore, I can not form relationships. Id like to say that I have friends, you know the ones that make you grateful you're alive, but even those seem to curve me in the streets. 

    Example; this morning I was walking down the road and I heard someone mention me. I went to turn and see who it was, but they seemed to have hid from me. I wanted to cry, but I was to numb to. These things had been happening to me all my life, and I'm tired of acting like I care, because I don't have enough of a life to care anymore.

    And I know what you're thinking, because it's been said to me before. “Why are you still here?” No I'm not gonna kill myself, no I'm not moving, and no I'm not changing my identity. I just want one thing to make me grateful. One singular thing.

    That was my life before I found, him. Cheesy I know, but it's true. I saw him and all I could say was “wow”. I was awestruck. He walked with elegance and kept his head high as if he knew God had favored him. As if he knew that he rose the heart rate of every girl hed ever seen. And then there was me. Clothed in sweats and a ratty old t-shirt just looking for something to make me smile. And it was him. It was he who finally made me see the sun. Like a radiant beam he shined on my dark life. 

    “Hey!” He shouted at me from across the street. I froze in disbelief. Had he just addressed me? I looked around to make sure I wasn't mistaken. I wasn't, he was talking to me. “Yes I'm talking to you.” He giggled at my confused expression.

    “Uh… Hey?” He laughed more and I found myself joining his choir of jubilant sounds. 

    “Come here.” He motioned me across the street and my feet took me before my mind could agree. “I see you walking everyday. Finally thought it was time to say hi.”

    I tried to speak but all that came out was a stutter. “Uh...co-ol.” 

    He laughed again and I couldn't help but stare in confusion. My mind started to reel with unlawful conclusions. He was gonna kill me. He was involved in sex trafficking. He was gonna rob me (even though I had nothing). He was gonna lie about who he was. But the more I stared at him though, the more I found trust glistening in his eyes. 

    “I'm sorry, this is weird I know.” He played with his lavish dark hair nervously. His deep dark eyes penetrated the walls I had built in years of being alone. But in that moment, I was no longer alone.

    For week afters I would see him walking and would wave and smile. We weren't friends, but we weren't enemies either. Id never met someone who could make my hands tingle and my heart race, until him.

    Occasionally wed sit and talk, but our silence didn't need to be filled with words. We were lovers with no title, friends with no time. We were indescribable. 

    But remember how I said everything comes with pain? Unfortunately, I wasn't exaggerating. Week after week I searched for him. And eventually he didn't show. For days I would walk up and down the beaten roads searching for his dark hair and trusting eyes, but I could never see. He had disappeared. From my life, and from eternity. I had grown so close to him, so close that maybe I could even say…. Thanks. But he was gone in the blink of an eye. 

    I began to spiral yet again. For days I wouldn't eat and for weeks I wouldn't sleep. My PTSD ran wild and my thoughts were untamed. My once domesticated mind had left me for dead. Peoples penetrating eyes seemed to rip apart my fragile skin. I just wished, and wished, that I could see him again. 

    People still whispered as I walked down the streets. My paranoia was becoming to unruly to control. I was on my last straw. I had to get help, so I went to the doctors.

    I had become so desperate that even this act of what seemed like self help was just a desperate attempt to find him. This nameless being had become the focus of my entire lowly life. 

    “So what brings you in today?” The doctors gaze held strong and the voices filled my head. They convinced me that he wasn't concerned. That he didn't care, but I spoke anyways. 

    “I've always been super paranoid, but it's getting even worse now…” I told him basically my entire life story and watched as he nodded and muttered. 

    “Well, I want to do some further tests and research, but I'm pretty sure I know why this is happening to you.” I was stunned. 

    “You do?” 

    “I believe so. You are extremely paranoid, having delusions, hearing voices, seeing things.”

    “I'm not having delusions. What do you mean?” I knew he didn't care. I knew he wasn't going to help. 

    “I want to help you but you need to believe me.”  

    “No, no. Don't touch me!” I shot off of the table and ran to the door but he had already called nurses in. They grabbed me and I struggled to run from their tight grasp. I screamed until my lungs had no air and my ears rung. 

    “Someone help me!!” The people sitting in the waiting area starred at me in fear. “Whats wrong with you people? Don't you see theyre hurting me!” 

    Everything that happened next seemed to be a blur. They hauled me away and wouldn't let me go. They tied me to a chair and told me it was for my own safety. I just wanted to go. I just wanted to find him. How did I end up here?

    “Where is he? Where is he!” I begged the nurses to speak to me. They wouldn't even look at me. “You took him! You took him from me!” 

    I watched them leave and in came a man in a white coat. “Hi, I'm Dr. Gregory. I'm here to help you.” 

    I struggled in my chair and tried to fight my way out of the ties. It was no use.

    “Listen to my voice, not the ones in your head. Pay attention to my tone.” I did, I listened. “I know you know I'm not lying. I know you just want to find him, but hes not real. You have schizophrenia. You saw him, but no one else did.” 

    “It's not true! I won't believe you! Let me go! I need to find him!”

    And then, I blacked out. It seemed like years before I was able to remember. It seemed like years before I woke up. And it was, it was years before I was normal. For the first time in my life, I had something, someone to be grateful for. 

    It wasn't a random fake lover on the street. It wasn't a parent that didn't exist. It wasn't a room full of people that weren't there. It wasn't the people that gossiped in the town. It was a doctor. The one who told me that I was insane but proceeded to help me find my sanity. It was a doctor who told me he’d help no matter how many times I screamed at him and fought him and his ways. 

    I have schizophrenia. I was living in a lie. I wasn't able to say thanks, because there was nothing to be thankful for. I lived a life no one saw but me. I may not have known it then, but I can be grateful. 

    Thank you, for helping me. 

November 21, 2021 16:56

You must sign up or log in to submit a comment.

0 comments