Amputation 101

Progress - growth or development; continuous improvement.

As you can clearly see, my appearances have been neglected and my words diminished... my voice, however, is still intact. The infection has spread... it's gangrenous, viscid fluids now pump with voracity within. Despite the sickness, progress has been achieved... what we sever, shall wither or be reborn anew. I've been medicated for several months now for this gift of severe depression, but the desired results were void of manifestation... a time of soap-sud children and fecal pan drippings. The progress, as untasteful as it may seem, is related to hygiene... I have stated before about the intertwined struggle of mental health and personal hygiene. Putting aside the emphatic "Fuck You" 's, through this sickness I have developed the routine of bathing on a more frequent basis... please sit upright and look up as the shower of bile rinses your eyes. Granted, the progress is limited to once a week, which is considerably better than before... I know, I am aware of the disapproval, please stand in line behind the other violators and interlopers. Mary knew there was a price to be paid, but she never thought of the horrors that fell upon her marshmallow skin. As the opening definition states, it is progress nonetheless. I found this young lady on the internet the other day, that video blogged about her schizophrenia... her hair was perfectly styled, make-up lining every fold of her face and her teeth glistening in a string of white pearls. The monster rears his head and bellows a plea of vengeance... imagery of ribboned flesh caught in a wave of contempt and bloodshed. Mental illness has become a trend and fashion statement to the youth of today... if you take hallucinogens, you see and hear things that aren't there. It doesn't make you a fucking schizophrenic... I weep for the ignorance of the world and the sheer lack of compassion. Dwelling on this encounter has enraged me once again, schizophrenia is not a fucking game or a desired trait... it's a debilitating illness and a fucking nightmare. If you really had schizophrenia, you wouldn't be so picture perfect in appearance and hygiene, you wouldn't be IM'ing and LOL'ing with your friends and you wouldn't be working in a trendy coffeehouse... the lights are about to come on. You would have something like my life or worse which includes the luxuries as follows. You'd be rotting in your own filth with your hair tangled in webs of disarray. You'd wear the same clothes everyday even when they are soiled. You wouldn't have friends, because social situations and emotions confuse and choke the fucking life out of you. You would be sitting at a desk covered in paper plates, cigarette ashes and notes of "importance". You wouldn't have a job because you couldn't stand being around people and their lingering abrasive thoughts. You would see and hear things that aren't really there when you're sober and lucid, but you wouldn't clearly know the difference of fiction and reality... you wouldn't be the self involved piece of cat shit, that you clearly are. Time passes by and we move on... the simple joys and pleasures in life. All things considered and digested, I am still alive... we keep each other company with moments slipping forward. Tomorrow I have an appointment with my doctor in addition to my therapy... I have decided to go off of this medication and perhaps try something different. Of course, when the choir has regained their full strength, that opinion and thought may disappear entirely... you've been up to no good while I was away and now I'll give you a reason to cry. Welcome home, my lovelies...