Schizophrenia

Introduction

It's a shame, really... You could have done so much with your life... But you're worthless.

"No! Stop! Please..." I screamed and thrashed. The leather straps dug into my arms and ankles. My skin, a blistered, raw red. I couldn't escape. But after so much thrashing, so much struggle, nerve damage kicks in. If you feel nothing, what is there to stop you?

Harder... Break your wrists! Then they'll drug you even more! Maybe even add more straps...

I heard the soothing violin melodies in my head... It's much kinder than the voices. Why couldn't it always be that way? The music calms and soothes. It keeps me going. But the voices put me here. All they do is yell and scream and hurt and hurt and hurt. They hurt me. They tell me to hurt myself. They tell me to hurt the one's I care about. All they care about is hurt.

Sometimes, I think about just ending it all. There would be no more voices. No more restraints. No more hurt. I would be free, I could be my own person. They would be out of my head.

But the music would leave.

My music is what keeps me going. Hoping that just one day they'll let me go. One day, I'll be able to play my violin again. I can still hear the melodies in my head. The never-ending melodies. The only solace I have is a small CD player in the corner of my room. I couldn't change it even if I wanted to. It"s just one disc playing on repeat. The soundtrack of a musical. The Phantom of the Opera. It's beautiful. Haunting. Tortured.

I like to think sometimes that I'm a part of it. There for the one they shun. They would shun me too. He has his demons, I can tell. Maybe we would have some things in common.

I think I remember seeing it when I was younger... Before my demons awoke.

But that could just be my imagination.

That's what some people call the voices, a figment of my imagination.

If that's true, then why did they strap me to the bed in a psych ward?