"this is not the same room"
Indeed, I was in the unending abyss.
I should have taken my pills.
Then, out of the thick, dark goo, a figure emerges.
Arms open, seeming to hug me.
The ice pick empaled in its orbit shines from an unexistent light source.
"go back to purgatory where you belong"
The figure re-enters the void.
So do I.
Its not there.
That was an albino?
I cannot begin to understand.
FACEPLANT!
"meh face"
The bearded man in the tophat and blue shirt starts moving the chairs to a song.
"ah yes, King Crimson"
FLING!
The air feels thick, like being dragged under a lido.
It looks orange, and smells like blood.
"mother, is that you?"
Literally breathing in this stuff.
GIANT NAKED WOMAN!
I wake up, again.
But it seems it's not over yet.
The most ear-shredding noise fills the room.
My room.
It can't be.
I know I'm in a break room having an episode.
Metal rods scrape against a glass panel.
"music from the Gods"
You should graduate yourself, NOW!
"no thank you"
More like granulate.
My hands hold these granulates.
...
Is that even an attempt at a joke?
I'm just running around in cricles, waiting for something new and non-lethal.
The green smoke rises from beyond the abyss.
You need to investigate.
Or just, take a whiff.
"ok"
SNIFF
...
oh.
that smell.
no.
it cant be.
could it?
snif
Mary Jane...
ow laawdd.
how many years have i've gone without that good shit.
i need it.
i need it NOW.
AAAAAA-
YOU ARE READING
The Schizoid
General FictionDISCLAIMER: This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and it is not representative of real schizophrenia. And it if has been used in poor taste, i didnt know. This man is in a room. His trials and tribulations are in. What will he do?
