Tag Archives: Schizophrenia

3 Reasons Why I May Have Lost My Mind

Rethink Mental Illness

Rethink Mental Illness (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Would you like to know what made me this way? So would I, still no answers…

  • Action and Reaction

Now this is the main reason people, lose it. I mean the struggle, as for me having no money + no food = A bad diet. Some say I morphed my attitude because of lack of the protein, fibre, gluten and so on. I mean this is a possibility, going almost a week without a full meal within my stomach, living off snack such a biscuits or a packet of noodles or even a sandwich, combine that way of eating when my body needed to grow, brings forth a scrawny-teenager. This is what my mother thinks, but I believe she doesn’t want me to believe that I am actually a mental-head; I think she doesn’t  want me to be a damaged writer. But here’s my theory, I’m still having the urges for evil and the headaches haven’t only set up house, they have little baby headaches running around up there and I have gotten used to the nightmares.

  • Genes

The psychologist told me when I was seventeen that if it wasn’t a brain-tumour which he made believe I had for around a year; how mean can you be? He didn’t think it was anything to do with my eating habits, as I could eat and when I had food I did eat. So he believed because I was amid my teenage years, and this is the main time for schizophrenia to set in and cause havoc within innocence. So this is what the doctor’s thoughts, mentally illness; just what the doctor ordered for my words. And I know now that some people within my ancestry have had to deal with mental illness. Hey, free meds!

  • Changed my own mind

Maybe I just got tired of being beaten, being made a nothing by people who believed I was nothing; having no money, no food and all the friends who helped themselves to my money and food when I did have it because my frame of mind was that fractured at the time, manipulating me and convincing me that I did misplace my welfare money or tell me I didn’t even go food shopping, while they filled their pockets. Can you blame me that I broke? Can you blame me for getting revenge on them all? I have never seen them since. Can you blame me for holding onto this dream? Can you blame me for my darkness? The answer = Nope. I can’t stop it, so lay down your pens, because one day I know I will make it, because this illness is my fuel, it’s what drives every word I use, I can’t stop. And an evil-side of me knows I can twirl words better than ninety percent of you. I do have my exceptions out there.

So still got no clue on what’s up with me, but I know one thing that is up with me? I am a writer.

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Filed under Mental Health, Writing

Love In The Time Of Mental Illness

Toxic Schizophrenia

Toxic Schizophrenia (Photo credit: Rachel Tropea)

They made me so I couldn’t love you and love within the innocent moment is ultimate destroyer. I have been created for the purposes for a few; for their jobs to flourish when they jab in the meds, or the punching bag from the loved ones who are having a bad-day, or even the jump-stone for the surgeon women who like to play around with the heartstrings because they flutter as butterflies from relationship to relationship. I am damaged and this does not help.

Love is a wildfire so beautiful to look at but so dangerous if not contained. But my silent aggressors are watching, you do not see them but they see you as they live within me. Do not worry, death is only an extension of life, come help me deliver leaflets, hand in hand.

You will need Electric-Shock-Therapy now to get a beat from my dying heart. Welcome to Love in the Time of Mental Illness. This pen can make me lose my mind, again. A hug from me comes with a free strait-jacket, keep your distance. Perhaps my paranoid-schizophrenia is kicking up a fuss going head to head with another heart.

I wish for wishful thinking, but choking on this wishbone is my killer.  So I wish for one more wish. I got you, now all I want is to keep you. I hold a new world for you within my shirt pocket. Within me is only without you; purely damaged. I hate this feeling of love; I know you’d leave one way or another. Hurt is all you really know what to give. It has happen before, so the paranoia becomes a pill that numbs the tongue and brings forth the thoughts of your betrayal. I should run from the pills as you have run from me. Now I am what you fear, I have been given a number/statistic, I now have no more name to give you in marriage. But I am mentally ill also I am a creative-writer, I can make one up.

I will be wed to this forever no more cheating on my illness with you. I have given into it this curse I can hex you with. Love is only a word…. And mental-illness is two.

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Filed under 2013, Articles, Author, Blog, Blook, Life, Literacy, Love, Mental Health, Writer, Writing, Writing #2