Sickening illness

My story begins here..

Sweat beaded on my forehead as I stared at the ceiling, noticing the streaks of light moving along the dark room. My hands were clammy as I pulled up my blankets just below my nose just to make sure that I would not suffocate. The streaks of light wandered around my blank ceiling, ready to pounce on me. I flinched when I heard a motorbike zoom outside my window and there were honking of cars outside my house. Uh oh. There are here to kill me. I’ll be slaughtered. My whole body shook like a brittle dead leaf. I shrieked when I felt something cold and wet on my ear. It’s probably the ghosts whispering to my ear that they’re coming for me. With my trembling fingers, I touched my ear gently, trying to remove the wetness on my ear. That didn’t help. The ghosts were continuously whispering into my ear. I yelled, “STOP STOP STOP. PLEASE.. GO AWAY!” I dared not to open my eyes, imagining a bloody face of a ghost in front of me, listening to me with a look of hate. Suddenly, there was a creaking of a door and a firm grip on my shoulder. Finally they are ready with their knives and guns to kill me. I stood still until I hear a warming voice, “Grace, you’re alright. I’m here for you.” I thought it was God speaking to me for a second but then realised that it was my father.

 

I could hardly see anything as my eyes were so swollen from crying. My father hugged me tight and I knew that my father was crying as the back of my pyjamas started to go wet. I was still quivering but felt more secure with my father with me now. I still had a feeling that the ghosts were around me somewhere but I tried not to think about it. My mother came in my room with a cup of water and handed it to me. She must have cried too as her eyes were red and was still quite watery. Quickly, I drained the water down my dry throat. “Did you bring the medicine honey?” my dad asked my mum, his eyes still on me.

 

I have a mental illness. Schizophrenia. It’s hard to say but it’s harder to live with. This illness makes my nerves twice as sensitive as a normal human being. Every shadow, sound, light, everything haunts me. Thus, this situation is a common thing to experience for me. My life is full of oppressing images. It’s a haunting illness but I need to fight it. This hated illness can be cured. I smile at the ghosts around me, trying to hide my fear.