[ [:Nothing Wrong With Me:] ]

Parallax09 · Subject: Re: [ [:Nothing Wrong With Me:] ] Thu Nov 12, 2009 5:28 pm

I gathered my books in one arm while fumbling about with my other hoping feebly, foolishly, that the fingers would move without pain. I planned to leave behind this man who went out of his way to aid me though the term “skitz” forced me to stop. “Hello Skitz.” It was like a serenade of repulsion. I felt it in the back of my throat and almost physically choked out chunks of awkward vomit. My stomach acids churned in distain as I glared to the man. “What? Save the schizophrenic, make fun of him all by your lonesome hmm? Is that your plan?” I grunted out a pitiful laugh. “Don’t want to ruin that pretty little reputation of yours, no, word will get out you’re a good soul but I’ll know…we’ll know the truth.” I hissed as the voices cheered me on screaming ‘now you get it!’ and whispering ‘now you see, tell him, tell him you don’t need anyone but us’. I stood ready and waiting for my next round of torture prepared to bother him with words since the sticks and stones bull shit is beyond my grasp. Instead of receiving what I was certain I had earned, I heard something role along and off the tip of your tongue. Like the slow sigh of a chello.

“Mind if I walk with you? I’m Jirou.”

Jirou… Jirou, Jirou, I scowled and glared. Instantly I thought of him. I saw his face, his younger face standing beside this older thing you’ve become. I didn’t know whether or not it was the same person, and then when I thought it was the same person I didn’t know if it was the same you. He left, I made him leave. You’re here again as though what I’ve done never happened. It can’t be the same you can it? My head suddenly felt as though it had been hit with a sledge hammer. “Jirou..” I dropped my books and stumbled back. “I knew a Jirou once…” I let out while trying to grip onto something, anything, to keep my balance. A bike rack was conveniently placed to catch my unharmed hand and support my disoriented weight. “Jirou’s shouldn’t come near me. Especially that Jirou…”

He left you anyway, even if you didn’t hurt him he shouldn’t come back.

He doesn’t deserve you.

You don’t deserve him, you don’t deserve anyone.

He deserves us, you deserve us ‘Skitz’

He calls you ‘Skitz’ in such a friendly tone, he’s obviously the old Jirou.

No, old Jirou is dead. You killed him schizophrenic freak, you killed him dead hahaha!

He didn’t kill Jirou.

Yes he did, he killed him, he’s gone.

The voices overloaded once more whispering and shouting trying to get my attention. I held my head and closed my eyes tightly before shouting “Shut up!” My body was caked in a cold sweat. My pained hand was pressed against my forehead while my good hand gripped firmly to the bike rack drenching that in sweat as well. My heart was pounding and my head felt lighter than air. The world around us was spinning, disoriented. “Get away.” I whispered to this Jirou. This freak with his name. “Get away from me… this school.. this town…” It’s so hard to breath. “If I see you again, I’ll kill you.” You wanted to kill him. “They’re lying, I never wanted to kill him.” Why were they so loud? Was it really just in my head? No it was coming from everywhere! It had to be, they were too loud to just be inside, too damn loud! Why didn’t he look around to see where they were? He couldn’t hear them? How do you even know he was even real… “Because I hurt him.” How do you know you hurt him? Maybe he hurt you by not existing. “No.” How do you know anything? “I know enough! I know, I know because of him I’m here I know…” You know nothing. I couldn’t take this anymore. I ran. I couldn’t run very fast, but I ran as fast as I could abandoning my belongings. I think I ran into the street and almost go hit by a car. I would’ve been relieved. They could talk all they want and I wouldn’t hear a thing. Unfortunately I made it across the street unscathed. I made it down the block unscathed… I made it to the corner unscathed… my lungs were killing me, I heaved for air, the voices were just blurred sounds now. Loud sounds that made no sense, incomprehensible, inaudible, unspecific! Then it was gone. Everything was gone. I was standing on the block to my house. I couldn’t move anymore… my house was just down the street, a large fine house a mansion, an empty deserted house with three dogs where no one was. If I could make it there, they wouldn’t speak. If I could just get to those doors, I wouldn’t hear them. I could lock them outside. I could lock everyone outside! My feet refused to move. My body was shaking it must have given up. Blood dappled the floor, why? I glanced down my drenched white shirt. The tickle, the smell… a bloody nose. A fucking bloody nose… I ‘pfft’ audibly sending a mist of crimson from my bloodied lips to spray the floor below. Feeling slowly returned to my uninjured arm before I rubbed the blood against my white sleeve to clean my face. My hands trembled and throbbed with the possibility that I had left Jirou… or had I killed Jirou? I think I’ve only killed once but I’m just not sure anymore!

(Thank you for joining Luna, this is kind of complicated so just to clear up the voices are in his head not out of his head. I've always considered not making this a narrative because Skitzo's idea of reality is altered by the voices and other various things that don't exist so he's not a very reliable narrator... Thank you.)

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I know your in there, I can hear you caring!~Gregory House

Luna Opal · Subject: Re: [ [:Nothing Wrong With Me:] ] Fri Nov 06, 2009 7:25 pm

Leaving had always been the hardest choice I'de ever had to live with. Those words had caught me by surprise, made it past the defenses I'de built to protect ups both. The way they stung at me caused me to react as I shouldn't have. Caused me to turn and walk away, letting you stare at my back. I'de wanted to stay, to not leave with my parents when they moved, wanted to find a way to make you smile, to make you happy. To keep everyone from you whom talked about you. Even knowing your condition I couldn't stop the descion that had been made then. Couldn't stop what I took late realized. I thought it was because of me. Your suffering. I caused it. Because I wouldn't leave you. My dear friend.

Shaking my head of those familer memories brought back my returning to this place I tried to focus on my studies. For threes I hadn't stopped learning all I could about you, about what you had. About what how to help you. Yet even now I hestitating in finding you, returning to you. Unknowing what my appearence would do to you. Yet I couldn't stop it, couldnt find the way to push you from my mind. Couldn't resist the pull that brought me once again to the place where you were. Sighing I closed my journal rubbing my eyes as I finally left the house. I was determnded even as I hestated. I should never had done it. Never have walked away. I won't again. Not ever. Not even if you hurt me.

But it came to soon, sooner then I would have expected it to. Watching that familar person fall. I could tell, I'de memorized every feature of his, He was my very speical friend after all. Helping him up wasn't easy but then it'de never been easy as I allowed him to get to his feet on his own, to attempt to help himself. The bullies had been a easy manner to handle, a few bloody noses and some black eyes and the were running like chickens. Though it wasn't them I cared about just at that moment. "Hello Skits." I muttered though I expected a burst of outrage, I expected him to start shoving away at me again. This time I wouldn't budge. This time I was staying. Even if it killed me. "Mind if I walk with you. I'm Jirou." He probally didn't even remember me. But it didn't matter if he did or not. I'de find a way. To care for him again.

Parallax09 · Subject: [ [:Nothing Wrong With Me:] ] Tue Oct 20, 2009 10:26 pm

S k i t z o
They think I’ve L O S T my sanity
But I can’t lose what I N E V E R had
They think I’m B R O K E N
But I’m still in O N E piece
They T H I N K they have me
But they’re hanging by a T H R E A D
I’m the one who’s pulling the strings
I’m not the one who plays their game
T H E R E I S N O T H I N G W R O N G W I T H M E
Because I was N E V E R right to begin with
So in order for something to be W R O N G
I’d have to be R I G H T.
R I g h t ?

I'm dying. For as long as I could remember I've been dying, slowly, bit by bit. Faster than you, but slower than somebody with cancer. Someday I won't be in pain like the people with cancer. Some day all of this endurance will go to waste and I'll fall into the nothingness, a memory forsaken to the world. My face will be wiped right off the map without a trace. Not only am I dying but my father thinks that I went off the deep end when mother, and I quote, disappeared. He knows that I killed her in cold blood. He found me with the knife in hand, hovering over her lifeless corps. I watched her eyes go all empty. I could smell the blood and the shit. It smelt like metal. I could taste her salty tears.

Somebody had to do it. My father tried to cover it all up. He tried to make it look like an accident. Heh, heh... He never asked me why I did it when he came home. He refused to believe that it was me. He refused to acknowledge this whole thing. I think he was secretly happy. I never saw it for myself but I’m certain she was just as cruel to him as she was to me. Every time mother dearest didn’t get her way she brought out the knife and held it to her own neck and asked me why I wanted to kill her. She would scream and say that she’d kill herself right here and now since I didn’t care. I use to cry and beg her to put the knife down day after day. A few years of this and it gets old. I finally told her to just do it and when she came at me with the knife… well I took matters into my own hands.

I was put in a group home. For the first three months I had to wear a stray jacket. My dad said that the loss of my mother was too much for me to bare. He said it was so traumatic for his little boy, that his schizophrenic son lost his mind. I suppose I didn’t mind then. Why should I have minded? I could still walk then without trouble. Now my knees buckle against each other and my legs wobble. A strong breeze could easily set me off balance. Soon I will be confined to a chair and soon after that I will be confined to a bed and then the eternal sleep will eventually come in the distant future.

For now I’m struggling with life at school like all the normal children. I’m dying and I’ll never contribute to society yet they expect me to go to school in case there’s a slim chance that a miracle happens and I’m miraculously healed. I find it kind of funny, and I find it kind of sad. The doctors have hope for a rich boy with a single parent who’s never home. My classmates aren’t the kindest to me. I don’t blame them. I’m a royal ass to their faces. I don’t see the point in permitting anyone to be my friend if I’m just going to die and leave them behind. I only had one friend before anyway and I’ve shoved him so far away there’s no hope of his forgiveness ever reaching me. He’ll never forgive me for the things I’ve done, the things I’ve said… I went out of my way to make sure of it… there’s no need for him to feel sorrow once I’m gone. There’s no need for anyone to miss me. I’m a spec, that’s how it should be.

I cough blood into a pale kerchief as I stagger home from school. My pale skin acts like paper… I bump into a curved surface and easily I am torn. Blood flows in large masses from the smallest cut and often times I pass out from the slightest of injuries. Think about it. If you were me, a paper cut could be lethal but it never is. My body loves to toy with me. It loves to batter itself up and then just when I think this is the end it stops and decides now’s not the time to go into the light, or the darkness, or whatever it is. My heart has stopped twice in my life, and I can tell you I’ve experienced different things both times. Mostly hallucinations. My life has never flashed before my eyes, I have never seen a long tunnel with a glowing figure at the end, I have never seen anything that leads me to believe that there’s a place I’ll go after this… I do believe I’ll end up somewhere though. It’s a nice thought, being a fully functional ghost that can haunt my would-be friends if this illness had never taken me. I chuckled briefly at the thought only to walk right into an older peer which sent me and my books toppling to the floor, yet the man I had stumbled into didn’t budge an inch. The impact of my body might as well have been a fly landing against him.

“Hey prick watch were your going!” I snapped bitterly and held my already bruising arm. I tried to wiggle my fingers begging my hand not to be broken, begging my bones to be strong enough not to fracture. I couldn’t move my index finger, ring finger, or middle finger however my pinky wiggled with intensified jolts of pain pulsating up my forearm. I hissed and closed my eyes tightly while trying to gather my books. To my surprise the man I had bumped into was trying to help me gazing at my leg and saying something about me walking. I looked to my leg to see dark scraped knees. At this point frustration was my all consuming void. I snagged my books from him and struggled to stand. The male tried to help me at first. “Don’t touch me!” I hissed and his attempts ceased. I limped away from him and continued to try and close my hand but all in vain. My damn fingers wouldn’t budge! “Great.” My voice cracked. “Just great, one more medical bill.” At least my leg didn’t break I thought to myself only to have my books snagged and my bosom shoved to the floor once more. Just because you’re dying doesn’t mean you’re exempt from bullies… I landed on my bum and watched them prance around me, calling me Skitzo.

“Skitzo, how’s your mom today? Oh right, you killed her.” They laughed.

“Skitzo, what do the voices tell you today? Maybe you should ask them to speak up.”

“Skitzo, what’s wrong? Cat got your tongue? Are you going to go psycho on us?” Skitzo! Skitzo! Skitzo! Skitzo! Skitzo! Skitzo!

I covered my ears as they gathered around my huddled figure asking me question after question. The voices, the ones in my head, they were on the bullies side! They were laughing at me! They were mocking me telling me how worthless I was. “They’re right, Skitzo, we told you Skitzo, only we’ll love you Skitzo…”

“STOP IT!” I shouted in the fetal position on the floor. It suddenly became quiet. The voices were gone. The bullies were gone. My books were in the arms of the man I had bumped into earlier today and he was crouched down near me looking at me like I was the most pathetic thing he’d ever laid eyes on. I shook and glared at him trying to seem threatening but he didn’t buy it for a minute and his face commanded me to stop pretending. I frowned and rested my head on the pavement feeling ever more pathetic. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the man looked familiar somehow now that he was so close to my face… It was almost comforting just to gaze upon it yet it hurt at the same time. I struggled to sit up and thankfully he didn’t help me. He must’ve known my pride was already shattered and I longed to salvage what little I had left. When my wobbly legs had permitted me to stand I held out my hands for the books. “Thank you..."

(OOC: Somebody who might help him open up a bit? Perhaps the old friend that "Skitzo" scared away since it was a long time ago when he was first diagnosed. Two or three years have passed since he's spoken to this old friend and his condition has gone from back to worse... If you have your own idea feel free to use that instead. MAY BECOME MATURE)

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I know your in there, I can hear you caring!~Gregory House