Excerpts of my writing on mental illness

It’s a quiet night before the calling of life’s shadows. Another patient is in terrible pain, writhing on the operation table, fighting beyond reason to breathe the air we breathe and speak to be heard. It is not beautiful, yet the evening is quiet as a summer night with a slow breeze creaking through the trees. Everything reminds them of childhood. How beautiful it was waking up to mom’s breakfast, friends, and unsaid ambition to grow and become and hope. She knows she doesn’t have long and life has taken away her physical beauty, wealth, and dignity. How wonderful would it be to walk through youth for one more day and be unrestrained from the pain. It is a pain that can only be understood through experience. A lifetime has taught her that she is small but her pride never left her. She thrives not on belief and paper thin philosophies but boldness, action, and willpower. Luckily, she is accepted by her peers and she does not have to face this alone. She will find that everything she needs and more is on the opposite shore in a place even the wounds of Hell becomes but echoes. But the earth tumbles, her life and dreams cracked haphazardly around her hospital bed, bleeding without end over what was once beloved. It is a beautiful night for death to come knocking.

Something about him feels like a wild dove in a lock proof cage. Schizophrenia has taken away his peace of mind and left him a shell of a person. His mind is overrun by desperation but also somehow the presence of humanity as well. He has been subdued. The fire in his eyes now but ashes of subservience. He works as a security guard and clings to his small allowance of freedom. I imagine him sitting at McDonald’s with his girlfriend and that feeling doesn’t come to an end. He imagines that the laws of nature no longer ends lives that they themselves brought into existence.

I don’t need your conformity, you’ll see one day that I have made it, all on my own, without the help of society, the outdated education system. I will prove them all wrong, especially after I leave this earth behind.

Fast forward 40 years. He is in his 50’s, out of jail for something unexplained, and he hustles for the support group director helping others who have come out of jail. He lives in a studio behind the giant painting of olympians somewhere near the city center. He tries to satiate his need for approval and affirmation with thrill seeking rides on his motorcycle. He watches the sun set on magic island and kakaako, and often stays till after dark. His organs are failing him causing emmense pain to his lungs, heart, and knees. It is perhaps even more painful than his fear of the afterlife but it is nothing compared to the girl he lost. He lied to her, and he has lied to me about her reciprocated love for him. It was a moment of fantastic and soul satisfying love. For a short while he truly belonged, that he was allowed to love someone so beautiful. He was a delinquent and her a college educated girl who liked to read. The ensuing breakup was a nightmare, like leaving a person empty handed at death’s door. His life played out just like an indie comedy such as 500 days of Summer. Please, make peace with your loss, and quit using underhand methods to make others fulfill your dreams. I owe you nothing. Women rarely return in these types of situations and you have abused her emotionally. But for all his bad behavior I feel that he is a child of God and also a friend to the mentally ill. But you need to let go of all these unsettled debts and step into the light with no ulterior intentions. You will love again, a prize most often won with patience and sincerity.