“She was a mistress, long ago”

“Maria was sick”




“Is she? Is She”



Thundering, all with the same volume and intensity. The rolling of the cart, the sound of the silver spoon smouldering on the platter, the talking wife, the waiter, all voices, different words. It felt like bombs, exploding yet only one was a victim.

“I cannot take it anymore!” he said.

“We just came in we have not ordered anything yet”

Even his girlfriend Elizabeth, he can not hear her clearly. She was talking as loud as everyone else.

Tap. Tap. His footsteps added to the rhythm, producing the same great noise.

Outside he saw floating bodies, a man speaking to him, a lady saying prayers, louder but chaotically blending. He ran. Wanting a place of escape, somewhere serene, quiet. He ran as far a he could, he walked and ran again but the pandemonium stayed. He tried to sing, loud, to distract himself but the lady, the man and every voice still thunders amidst his great attempt of escape.

“Go! All of you, leave me alone. Please I beg you.” He cried

“Stop crying handsome man, I am here I will love you” the lady said

He smiled and said “Thank you”

“I thought you said we must leave, she will leave you like everyone else. Do you see someone you love? None of them are here” the man said.

He looked around with watery eyes. There was no one he knew, all are chattering around giving him an evil glare.

He kneeled, cried and ran again.

Fatigue devoured his body but he cannot fall asleep. Sitting beside a street lamp, his young face filthy, his clothes ashen grey, his face blank. He was there sitting, awake while staring afar, not even moving a single finger, merely just breathing.

He was another victim of a thief, a slayer, an unseen evil that until today no man on earth can fight and win entirely.

It will steal your very being, attack you on your most robust days. As it lingers in your mind, you will perceive each sound at the same rate and intensity, unable to hear the things you only want to hear. Sleep will be deprived for you will continually hear voices, see things from real impulses of nerves and fluctuating neurotransmitters, reality and dream are at the same time perceived. A chaotic mind even in the most serene place. Schizophrenia and its victims are great stories. Such a downfall can strike any pounding heart. But they are not mere subjects of intrigues, chats and papers. They are people bound on a curse they cannot escape. They are people worthy of help rather than fear, of attention rather than stagnant apathy.


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