Voices

First Test Run

I have no reason to believe the things I hear from the voices in my head. They are always going on and on and on until I feel like I'm drowning in their words. The crazy thing about having schizophrenia is that if someone else has it, they could damage your healing progress and visa-versa. The therapists always said that things would get better and the voices would go away over time. It has been five years, I'm 17. The only difference is that it used to be funny, now I just want them to shut the hell up. I found this group in an old garage I was exploring. They said that they were doctors, scientists, and schizo patients. They told me that they invented a new technology that could help me sort my thoughts and put them on a microchip that I can look back to later. I don't have to do anything except sit in a chair, hooked up to a big scary machine, and calmly think about whatever I want. Simple enough, right? It's been three weeks since I stumbled upon The Garage, and Dr. Martinez thinks I'm ready for a test-run on "The Box" There are a million things that could go wrong, but he told me not to worry. I'm a little nervous, but here we go... 

Hello? Oh, wow. This is cool. Dr. Martinez asked me to describe what I see. Its just an endless world of black all around me, but every word that I think appears in front of me in white. I wonder if it's every thought I have. Purple. 47. Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. Wow. It even like, spells it correctly. Does that mean that I can't misspell words here?  Dog. Dog. D-O-G-E. Dog. What the hell? Okay. I have another idea. Does an ellipsis work? Let's find out... It does! I feel like I've been in here for a while. Maybe I should return to reality. Dr. Martinez also gave me a keyword to log out, but that brings up some questions. What if I accidentally say it in the middle of a sentence? Would the program end? I don't really want to test that out quite yet. I'm just going to log out now. Alpha Exit. ~

As soon as I'm out, Dr. Martinez is bombarding me with questions. "How do you feel? Are you queasy? Are you lightheaded? What's going through your brain?" It seems like he asked me every question except how's the weather . Dr. Martinez looks at me expectantly. "Well," I begin,  "I'm just a little drowsy." The doctors start speeding around trying to find something to make it better and I'm asked a million questions again. "Whoa, guys, it's been a long day at school and my mom doesn't know about this and-" right at that time, my phone beeps from my back pocket with a text from mom. 

Where are you? Shouldn't your band's practice be over by now? [mom] 

I can only answer back with the truth. 

I just finished something up. I'm leaving now. [A.J.]

 That should get her happy, I now have twenty minutes to get home. Yay.