Diary of a schizophrenic

Entry One

8.8.2013

Dear Diary,

It's early August, somewhere near dawn when the first shades of rouge and flush pink kiss the sky good morning. I've witnessed it so many times it's not even pretty anymore. It's more of an affair, nothing compared to sunset. And while the lights are flirting I'm sitting here writing wasting away the hours of precious sleep. Doesn't matter, sleep is overrated anyways. Almost a year has passed since I started taking my medication. I wouldn’t call it hard but definitely not pleasant. Trust me when I say this: I'm fine.I've always been fine. People have a rough time believing that because people are prone to lie about important things like their feelings. That's very substantial but not in my case. When I discovered I had it I was drowned in medications and psychiatrist and things that are supposed to make me feel better when they didn't.

They’re almost gone now, you know. The hallucinations. And I’m starting to feel empty again as I was before my ‘’illness’’. I don’t like calling it like that. I don’t like people calling me sick and schizophrenic. It’s nothing personal, not like I’m ashamed of it. I just don’t like to be marked as something, something that sounds so disturbing to the normal world. I’m still human, unfortunately.

Nothing will ever make me feel better. I've grown to like myself just as I was. For the first time I felt happy to be in my own skin, I could be my own. Now, that part it gone. Still doesn't change the fact that I'm doing fine. Don't question it, I beg of you.

People think of it as something horrible, sometimes even worse than cancer . Sorry to put it this way but schizophrenia doesn’t kill you by itself. It’s basically seeing things -that mainly existed in your mind- in real life, only that they’re not real,duh. Kind of like LSD. It depends on people of what they choose to do about it. Either you ride it or it rides you. For me it’s more like dancing, swinging. Up and down, left and right, worse and better.

I’m starting college in a few weeks. I convinced my parents to let me finish high school and do a summer program since I was '‘getting better’' and all that. The doctors say that it’s a good idea for me to interact with real people. Noticed how I wrote ‘real’ people, well that’s because I used to have imaginary friends. Surprise, surprise. The schizophrenic girl has imaginary friends but I don’t want to talk about them anymore.It makes me sad and I can’t be that right now given my current state of supposed-well-being.

I’m going to High Sky’s new University of Art. High Sky is a small place an hour away from my hometown. It was build like 10 years ago and basically consists of Universities,fraternity and sorority houses,campuses and a deathly amount of Starbucks. Every white girls dream.

I'm not scared, I've never been scared of anything. Seeing what I've seen, you wouldn't be either. It was my psychiatrists' idea to start writing a diary. She said I'll make me feel better since I wasn't much of an open book when it came to people. I can't jump over the fact that people treat diaries as friends and there for real humans, but what makes this much more inviting is that you -my dear diary friend- will not judge me. I just hope I'm right with this one. 

Author's note

This chapter has been edited. So will be there other posted ones. I hope you'll like them better, the changes aren't big. I hope you'll enjoy it anyways. 

xxx

-L