The Voices

I realize it’s quite easy for you. Right? You have always done that. Did you ever even try to think, how it feels to be someone different? Someone who’s not the part of the herd.  Did you even try to think about the difficulties involved in being me? Oh you might have not done that. You were so busy mocking me and laughing on me. And every time, you had a laugh session for me, you laughed on every single individual who suffers like me.

What is my mistake? Is it I am different from you? Is it that I cannot do the things, the way you do? Are you afraid that I might be better than you?  Or is it that you only want a punching bag to punch in hard whenever you need?

I am a schizophrenic but I am very sorry, I cannot be your punching bag. Yes, I live with a disorder that affects my ability to think, feel and behave clearly. I never made a preference to be in this world like this. I never made a choice to be different like this. I never wanted to be visited by the uninvited Voices, who haunt you, all day every day. The Voices who want you to kill yourself.  I always wanted a normal life. A normal life; like a normal kid. Going to school; making friends; spending quality time with my family; celebrating festivities, and what not. I never made a choice to be what I am today.

 I still bear in mind the day when I was diagnosed with schizophrenia and depression. The wails of my mother had pierced my heart. Dad made me false believe that it was a minor disorder that will get fine with passage of time. After all I was just an 8-year-old kid. What would I even say? But the wails of my mother said something different altogether.

One night, I could hear someone calling my name out loud. It was all dark and grimy. One cold winter night, when the owls made their own goofy talks, the door made a creaky voice.

“Anna, Anna. Listen. We are here. We are here to protect you.”

 For an 8-year-old girl, this was something mysterious. And definitely, terrifying.  I was so petrified hearing my mother’s wail in the hospital, that day, which is why I decided not to share anything about it with my parents. An 8-year-old, thought, it was normal. Any eight year old would have contemplated that way. Days passed and this very 8-year-old, became best of friends with these Voices.

 3 voices Ben, James and Adrian. They are Martians, they live on the planet Mars. They had stories I had never heard about. They told me how beautiful Earth, my planet looks from their planet. They wanted me to visit them at Mars and meet them. And we made a plan together. They told me that if I kill myself, I shall be transported to Mars, after I die. I was really afraid listening this in the first instance. However I realized that Ben, James and Adrian were the only friends that I had. They knew me so well, and loved me.

And then this kid took the decision.

“We’ll go to Mars. This society on Earth has always mocked me. At least I’ll be happy on Mars.”

The day came, when I was about to transport myself to Mars. Or for a better view, I was about to kill myself. Ben, James and Adrian had already made me fall in love with Mars. I had always fancied the beauty of the red planet. I remember not clearly, but a distinct image of playing with spaceships. It seemed as if these Voices were making my dream come true. I was about to visit Mars. “Mars, Here I come.”  I wanted to explore the red planet. And now I was about to kill myself.

With great courage, I climbed up the terrace, hiding away from my parents. I had already wished them the final goodbyes (obviously they didn’t know). James, Ben and Adrian had advised me to jump off the terrace. It would make the transportation process easy and reduce the pain.  I was about to jump from the terrace when I don’t know from where in this world, my father came and pulled me back from the grill. I shouted. I wept. I wanted to go to Mars. I wanted my friends. I wanted my dream to fulfill.

Today, I am 16-year-old, Anna, a schizophrenic or what you call in your lingo “mentally retarded kid”, in the Mental Treatment Hospital. I wanted to talk to you today. Yes you. You, dear society. The Voices always said that this world is a cruel place. The Voices always said that everyone exists just to put others down. The Voices always said that you (society) hate me for being me. You, dear society are justifying it. Do you think it’s easy to live with hallucinations? Do you think it’s easy to create your own world and live in it, all alone? Because of you dear society, I, a “mentally retarded kid” as you term me, feels helpless today. You are proving the Voices right.  This was not supposed to happen. You make me feel that being different is a curse. You make me feel unwanted. You make me feel as if I don’t have any right to exist. Am I that bad?

“You’ll be different, sometimes you’ll feel like an outcast, but you’ll never be alone.” – Super Man

A printed graffiti with these words hang in my hospital room. Dear society, I never made a choice to be labelled as unwanted. I am a victim who needs help. I need your help. Your hurls and hate, snatched my childhood from me. I have started feeling as if I am a burden on my parents. Dear society, I am not alone. There are many like me. You break us, every time you laugh on us. All that you find is funny or immature; it’s our pain that we go through. We live with people around us, who don’t even exist in reality. And you say that you are right. You think you are right in making us feel unwanted. Every time you do this, dear society, you make The Voices win. For me and people like me, just for once, please make The Voices lose. We don’t want much from you. We win, the day you accept us the way we are. We win, the day you feel that we too are part of you.

We win, the day you start loving us. After all, that’s all we need to sustain.