Keith

Part 4

Sometimes, I wonder if maybe this world is just the hell of another planet.

After being admitted to the hospital for schizophrenia I was released a month later back into the real world with a special metal bracelet and a bottle full of Clozaril to take three times a day, 80mgs each time.

My mom hadn't taken the news very well, especially all that had been circulating around in her stuffy air lately. She only came to visit me once while I was in the hospital, it had been when I was first admitted, but the whole time had been her crying and me sitting there in silence watching her. After that I didn't see her again, but apparently while I was gone she had a breakdown of her own. I'm not sure what happened, but it's just what I heard. However, I suppose it doesn't really matter to me since everything is back to "normal" now anyway.

While I was in the hospital I was informed that Sam was in all actuality only a hallucination, just another piece of me. They taught me how to recognize when things are hallucinations (do they have a shadow? Does it appear that others can see said hallucination as well? Et cettera). I've also come up with a "distraction activity," which happens to be reading. I've also been given a number to call if my hallucinations/delusions begin to cause me "distress." Even though I take my medicine regularly they said that it wouldn't fully stop all hallucinations and delusions until after four months provided that I maintain a low stress environment, which I'm not sure how well that will work out since school starts next month.

Since taking Clozaril I have gained three pounds, which isn't too much, but for me that's a bit since my weight always seems to stay in one place. I've often been very tired and lethargic which makes me not want to read, so I may need to think of a new "distraction activity." The headaches at times make me lie down, even if in public, and start crying they cause me so much pain. I've picked up the art of writing. I figured that since I enjoy reading so much that I might would write my own book, but sometimes my hands shake so bad my hand writing looks like I wrote it while taking a very bumpy bus ride. I would just type my works, but we don't have a computer and I don't want to bother my mom for the money now that she's struggling to pay for my hospital expenses and for my medicine.

Even though I do as I'm told, 80 mgs three times a day with meals, I still occasionally see Sam. Sometimes I'll see him as just a passing face in the crowd sometimes I'll see him riding at the back of the same bus as me (maybe finally going to see his aunt), sometimes I'll see him standing on our stoop. He hasn't attempted to talk to me like they said he would. I think he's upset that I didn't listen to him that day, that I told them everything, that I now take medicine to make him go away. I pity him in a way, I was his only friend and I loved him, but he is just a hallucination I have to remind myself sometimes. Sometimes I really miss him; we have some good memories together. Sometimes I really want to speak to him when I see him, tell him that I miss him and that I'm sorry if he feels like I betrayed him, but they doctors told me not to speak to him (or any of the things I see or hear). It's like Sam died but never went away, he still follows me around and watches but never approaches me.

​However, the other day, when I was reading in the corner at the bookstore something strange happened. I was deep into the crescendo of my book when I heard someone ask me "Don't you even love me anymore?" The voice was Sam. He stood there looking down at me with his shoulders slumped and his hands shoved into the pockets of his ripped jeans.

I regretted looking up, and quickly looked down into to my book again trying to distract myself but there were too many thoughts rushing through my head as loud as a river. I missed him like conjoined twins long for each other once they are separated. Despite what my doctors had instructed me to do, I wished to talk to him. However, at the same time I was worried that if I did look at him I wouldn't see his shadow. How badly I wanted to see his shadow, but everything told me there wouldn't be one. I was afraid.

"Things don't just disappear because they are ignored, Keith"

He turned his back on me and walked away. That was the last time I ever saw Sam.