As a child, Marla always had a deep fear of the void. She didn’t understand why she felt so unsettled with the vast emptiness that seemed to consume everything. Growing up, her fear metamorphosed into a deep sense of disillusion, as she began to struggle with a reality that often felt insurmountable. It wasn’t until her schizophrenia set in that the line between reality and delusion became uncomfortably blurred.
One day, while walking home from the grocery store, Marla was confronted with a voice that whispered in her ear. It was a voice she couldn’t shake, one that seemed to taunt and mock her at every turn. She tried to ignore it, but it crept back into her consciousness like a weed that wouldn’t go away. It was then that she realized that schizophrenia was like a void of its own, one that consumed her thoughts and left her feeling desperate for a way out.
Listlessly unaware, a vague sense of being came over Marla. What is reality, Marla thought, and do I really exist. An onslaught of questioning flooded Marla’s mind. Until, upon thinking so much, a voice started to say, “you are not real.” This voice repeated over and over in Marla’s head, until she snapped. Suddenly, Marla felt nothing no pain or emotion at all. There was a distortion to everything, and two dimensional like being controlled in a video game. She also compared it to holding a video camera, nothing felt quite real. Was this the void? It was like being in purgatory, Marla thought.
This place, it has a haze that consumes life itself. Distant and fake, listlessly broken, she seemed to fade away into an even deeper expanse. This accursed haze seems to ingulf everything. You can see the souls of the damned walking as if with a purpose. A yearning to go on seemed to invade, so within an escape she faded even deeper, just to be safe. It seems this wretched place was to be her savior. But savior though it seemed to be, there wasn’t any escape.
Marla’s delusional state began to worry her mother, Angela. Worry to the point she wanted to call someone but was afraid of what might happen to Marla. Meanwhile, Marla was spiraling even deeper out of control. Her whisper was turning into a more defined and loud voice. Angela tried all she could to comfort her daughter, but it was no use. It seemed Marla was to endure.
While stuck in the void, the hallucinations grew to a point of no control. Marla was hearing voices in her head pretty much consistently and she didn’t know how to make them end. It seemed the more Marla spiraled out of control, the deeper into the void she went. This void was a place that stank of fear and had no mercy. Marla was determined to not be stuck in this place forever. It was a vicious cycle that nobody seemed to know how to end. It was at this point Marla wanted to seek help from a doctor that her friend had suggested but didn’t out of fear of her freedom.
It was getting to the point, Marla, was starting to enjoy the delirium. She said there was a sort of comfort to the feeling. And the lack of reality provided a sense of peace too. Marla couldn’t explain this feeling, but she liked it. One day, Marla went out with a friend. She thought the day out would do some good. Her friend, Stacy, had a bit of a drinking problem and had the potential to be a bad influence on Marla. They went out to eat and Stacy told Marla that what she needed was some vodka and cranberry juice, Stacy’s favorite drink. The two ordered a drink and Marla soon found out the numbing effects of alcohol eased her mind and pain.
The more Marla thought about reality and her existence, the deeper into the void she went. Blood! Blood! Blood! The voices seemed to command more and more, over on repeat. She started to have voices tell her to do bad things, and the more Marla drank, the worse the commands got. Her repetitive overthinking got to a very dangerous point when Marla, was having homicidal thoughts. This mixed with her mental tendencies started causing the poor girl to see blood on the walls and covering everything else. Marla kept on drinking and spiraling out of control.
After a while of going untreated, Marla, began to vision demons coming after her while walking down the street. She would scream and run in fear, at first, not caring if anyone saw her. She saw these demons and thought everyone else could too. She began to see if her hallucinations and overthinking get bad enough, the deeper into this absence she went. And the deeper she went the worse her overthinking got.
Marla’s drinking was increasing to where she was drinking straight liquor. She would drink until she blacked out to not have to deal with the pain of her disorder. “This has to stop,” Angela says to Marla. Her mother begs her to go to an inpatient facility, just to get a grip. She begged her please, so not to lose her life, or to at least go to church with her. The more she begged the more insulted Marla felt. She began to drink more.
No matter what anyone said, she just kept spiraling out of control. She was cutting herself now to try and escape the void. Nothing seems to work no matter what she does. So, she does the unthinkable, and swallows a bunch of medication. The result, she is in a coma for four days.
Marla’s mother, Angela, is beside herself with grief and does nothing but pray for mercy on her daughter. The next day Marla starts to wake up a little here and there. So, Angela prays even harder for mercy on her daughter. Marla wakes up. A year later, Marla is enrolled at the University of Tennessee taking classes in psychology and living life on medication.
Schizophrenic Poems, Short Stories, and Thoughts 