A Schizophrenic Episode

March 2, 2009
By Anonymous

It all happened so quickly. I don't know how or when, really. I mean, I'm just your average,
hockey playing, senior in high school. Nothing significant has happened to me in my entire life
until this day. I was just walking to school when i heard them. Yes, them, as in more than one. It's
different when you hear a single voice because you can just convince yourself (and anybody else)
you're simply talking to yourself. But more than one, that's when you know you can't deny something
is wrong. Or at least very, very different. 'Listen to that weed whacker over there; it has to be
the most obnoxious noise. I mean, who really mows their lawn at 8:00 in the morning? Maybe we should
take care of that...' I looked all around me. I wasn't anywhere near anybody else. Who said that?
I even checked my cell phone to see if it was on speaker or somethin. It wasn't. Then I heard
another voice. It was different, more raspy, like it needed a glass of water maybe. 'I agree
entirely. I mean, it's going to be for the better. There will be peace and tranquility in the
morning like how it's supposed to me. Let's try and walk him over and finish the lawn job for
him.' I don't know what came over me. I no longer had control over myself. I'm not the violent
type at all, but I couldn't resist the urge to walk over and pummel that guy. I've never even fought
before, but this feeling...I couldn't stop it. I knew it was wrong, but I just walked over and took
care of the noise. 'Job well done, my friend! That was brilliant! Who knew an old, waiting to be
recycled beer bottle could be used so effectively to knock someone out cold?' It was the first
voice. Again, I whipped around looking for a face with the voice. 'Yeah! Right!? It was awesome!
Our plan totally worked. We can do anything with this guy. He's out own marionette doll now.'

The raspy voice this time. Were they talking about me? Were they controlling me? Marionette doll? Oh
my god. A light bulb just went off in my brain. That's when I knew. The crime I had just committed
was not my fault. I am at the mercy of whatever is going on in my own head. Panic flushed down my
body. I had no time to think of solutions when the voices in my skull began speaking again. 'This
walk is way too far for my liking. How can we get where we're goin' faster?' 'Ooo, I have an
idea. Look over at that old lady getting into her car. She's so frail, there's no way she'll defend
herself.' Before I could try to protest, my feet turned toward the direction of her car. Swiftly,
I approached the vehicle and as gently as I could, removed the woman from her car. Getting in I
whispered an apology to her, but she gave me no response. Turning the keys, I geared into reverse
and backed out her driveway. I regained control of my body and decided it would be best to go to
school, as planned. By the time I reached the building, squad cars lined themselves in and out of
the parking lot. I guess people had witnessed my actions and called the cops. I had no choice but to
turn myself in. The voices had quieted since my arrival to the school. Everyone was standing outside
watching, waiting for my arrival. I guess I got pretty dangerous since I woke up. They arrested my
on the spot. They told me I killed the man with the weed whacker. I was numb. No emotions entered
me. Nothing at all. I was questioned immediately after I arrived to the station. When they asked me
why I did it, all I could say was, 'The voices.' The detectives requested that I immediately be
checked out by a psychiatrist. My mother came with into the session. The doctor asked her if I had
any violent episodes when I was younger. She said yes. I had no idea. She told her stories of me
drawing deformed and demented cats and destroying my sister's stuffed animals. They would only last
for a day or two and then disappear. They were so sporadic and spaced out that my mother didn't
really think anything of them. Apparently, this isn't something to be taken lightly. After my
appointment with her, I was diagnosed as a Schizophrenic. My life changed forever that day and
although I knew it wasn't my fault, no one else believed me. I was put into the psychiatric ward at
the jail. Yeah, jail...they tried me as an adult so Juvie wasn't really an option. Family visits
aren't an option either. Since they don t know when I'll act again, I can't see my family or anyone.
It's been three years and the voices haven't come back. Who knows if they ever will?

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