schizos are misunderstood


We speak to ourselves all the time.

At work at play little monologues run through our fleet inner minds.

Most people call it Thinking but in honest truth, it is no more than a forum between invisible, undefined, cognitions that venues in the labyrinth of, dare I say it, your soul.

Every Thought begins with a question,

" Shall I have this cupcake?

and I answering to myself, No, you shan't. For you will gain that extra pound.

Right you are, and I won't. "

and results in an answer.


No one has ever dissected this process we call Thought because for one, it moves too fast. We can't be bothered to slow down what we need quick - less than a snap of an instant.

Even the instinctive action of reading the next word following the word this, would have prompted you to ask at the forum that be,

" Shall I read the next word?

Yes you shall because the first word makes no sense without the second makes no sense without the third and the sentence is naught without all the words.

Fine, I shall read it. "

Old ladies tell us not to fix what isn't broken but I say rip it all apart so we can reverse engineer to build a bigger, better one. And aptly quoting Hugh Jackman from The Prestige - "MAN's reach exceeds his imagination!"

We are never truly exiled to loneliness if we are alone. For in being alone, we have ourselves to speak to.

So what happens when we lose our mind? Imagine that we were to strip ourselves of the quintessence of being individual - bereft of the ability to converse with our most sincere companion. To exist and yet still be nil.


We all need someone to speak to. And I am going crazy.