schizophrenia and I


-And they speak again forcing me to listen to them.

Didn’t we tell you? This was bound to happen!
– My conscious is slowly fading away. I need to search for the cure or it is bound to repeat itself again. Dash for the nearest closet to pop a pill and gulp down water from the sink. This cannot be happening again, NO! The doctor said I was getting better.

You already set fire to the gifts he gave you but how will you set fire to his memories?

-OH! STOP!! Please. I could hear them laugh. Laughing out. Mocking my credence. Maybe fresh air would do me good? Hurrying upstairs to the terrace. Tip toe-not trying to wake the whole house up.

Fresh air is as good to you as the chamber you confine yourself in, all day! Since the past few months. All digital aren’t you,honey?

-What do you want from me?

Your misery, child. Your heart will die a slow excruciating death and you will shed hope of getting better. You will be dead and still be alive.

-Let me live. Let me be normal. Let me fit in.

HAHA! You can set fire to physical things. Drown them. Bury them. Trash them away. But you cannot get rid of us. You cannot set fire to your spirit. You cannot drown your sorrow. You cannot trash away your existence. We live here. This is our home.

-I am taking my medicine. I will get better. I will survive. You will see. I will find peace.

Medicines just make you numb to the world and more active to us. There is no getting better. You would not survive. Peace? That will only be a five letter word to you. Go on! Inject and numb your veins.

-Please, what did I ever do to you? Why do you haunt me when it is dark?

Because, you dared to dream! You dared to outshine. You dared to take more than what was your piece. And now suffering is your only release. Salvation. You are nothing but a beautiful face structured on lies.

– I am nothing more than a pretty face, big eyed, pillowed lip girl structured on lies *keeps repeating*


About Bano

I’m trying to find a better introduction but since, I can’t? Hi! I’m an ordinary person and I write. I write not because there lies aspiration to be a writer someday but because, it keeps me sane. I love the color silver, black and grey. I also realize that they fall under the same color tone. Whatever, I write is a result of my 3 a.m blues or insomniac depressive tendencies. I can’t write during the day. I’m addicted to caffeine and well, anything and everything (if I like it). Also, I suck at conversations. I bite my nails. Most of the time I’m clueless about the world around me. I love politics and youth activism. People tell me that art and politics don’t belong in the same mind, but I’m passionate about both. One day I might be drawing on a canvas or writing a story and the very next day I will be heading off to attend a summit on the role of youth at the United Nations. I have multiple people trapped in the same body. Each side does try to express itself, in minimal ways if not fully. I’m currently going through a rough patch in life. I guess, I’m adjusting to the world through multiple perceptions. I absolutely love talking to myself because an expert opinion is always required. Most of the time, I just play scenarios in my mind that would never happen. I’m very contradictory in my thought process and actions but it is okay, people get to be what they want to be as long as no other soul is hurt. Peace out!

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