Schizo

Fiction


Schizophrenia

20th July, 1996

I am a writer.

I live in the mountains with my family, which includes my wife and my two-year-old son. There is something very, very wrong about the mountains. The gloomy, dark atmosphere, the sad, cold winds - it makes me go crazy. I feel funny here, although my family loves this place. Why don’t I leave? I don’t know. It’s as if some force is pulling me back and not letting me go.

27th July, 1996

I feel better now. I am in much control. Everyone is happy. Today, we were invited to inaugurate the new restaurant. These people respect me a lot. Nice. I hear some people whispering near my ears while I’m sleeping. I know it’s just a dream.

6th August, 1996

I hear voices. They whisper scary things in my ears. I haven’t told anyone about it. I am really scared, but nobody gives a fucking shit.

 

Schizophrenic

14th August, 1996

That angel whispered to me that God loves me and I shouldn’t be scared and keep the faith in God. That angel told me that my wife is a succubus and my child is an abomination of God. They must be killed and I think they already know that I’m planning to do that.

21st August, 1996

The succubus and her cursed child are gone. The angel told me that God loves me and he will make me an angel too, for my work and for keeping faith in Him.

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This was the journal of a writer who turned into a paranoid schizophrenic, eventually killing his wife and child, which he thought was a crusade he led against the evil.

Can a mind be possessed by a state of such hallucinatory confusion and souls be poisoned in pursuit of salvation, so much so that we poison our kins? Isn’t there a schizophrenic in each one of us?

Don’t we all hear voices?

The story and the scheme of redemption and the theological dogmas have overshadowed us to an extent that we fail to notice the atrocity, stupidity and cruelty with which we follow them.

Not just this writer, we all seem to be living in a mental eclipse.

Every man, fooled by faith and accustomed to these thoughts and beliefs, is engulfed in the schizophrenic darkness. Restrained by fear of punishment and the hope of reward after death, we are bereft of the reason. And the common sense is no longer common at all.

For it’s up to us to decide, to switch around to be – the spiritual fruit or the religious nut.
And the schizophrenic within us wants to talk it out...


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