I have been injured so badly with antipsychotics and the treatment I have been given by psychiatry that I can barely even speak. The days when I was genuinely laughing, exploring the world at my own albeit very sluggish pace (later on) and feeling truly alive are so far gone now that it almost seems like they never happened, despite that they happened not that long ago. I’m not the first to wish that my linguistic skills would match up to the depth of the experience I am trying to communicate and I won’t be the last, but my inability to actually say what’s happened/happening to me is immensely frustrating.

So since I can’t spin a poetic or emotional yarn and explain myself that way, I’ll just have to say that I can no longer think, feel anything but emptiness, restlessness and quiet despair and in general I am not in tune with my senses enough to enjoy them. More or less, my mind has gone completely blank on antipsychotics. I can no longer picture anything in my head that isn’t severely distorted, and I have no natural running imagination like I used to. Once, I could lie down and entertain myself by allowing images to flow through my mind and by enjoying the feelings and thoughts that corresponded with them. I seldom pictured things that made me uncomfortable. Now, this never happens at all and I have to struggle to picture my mother’s face even. When I do it comes out disgustingly distorted and bearing little resemblance to what she actually looks like.

Furthermore, I can’t speak to myself in my head. I cannot even say the word hello to myself without moving muscles in my throat or changing my breathing. That is, I have no internal voice. When I concentrate on my mind, all I get is pitch blackness coupled with the physically generated effects of my retinas and such. My mind makes no associations between things and in fact hardly generates thoughts about things at all. What I can’t understand is how the world in general has come not to realize how painful it really is to have no internal world whatsoever. Surely, I used to think, this must be an emergency of sorts. How am I supposed to relate to others with no stimuli of my own? How am I supposed to do anything? How is this even considered to be alive? How is it humane at all to force this wretched state upon someone against their will with antipsychotics as it was forced upon me? Surely I must have died!

I also suffer from movement disorders. I shuffle around a lot and constantly move my legs and feet. Most of the time I have no awareness that I am doing this. But this to me is sort of a trifling issue; I am much more agonized by the lack of content in my being. Simply put I add up to nothing, and I feel that I do. I just don’t understand how society can be so cruel like this. People think instinctively that because I have schizophrenia, that I must be seeing things. That I must have a life rich in experience if not in action. The sad truth is the opposite. I have no internal content and I don’t see how I could ever operate this way.

My memories are also gone, for the most part, both long and short term. I can’t remember my past. It’s almost as if, as I’ve said before, the good times in my life never happened.

I just don’t know how I’m supposed to continue this way. Suicide is a very tempting option since drugs like acid that could maybe reverse this are illegal. Honestly, I don’t know if I should bother with that. It might be more prudent just to end it for good. I was afraid of being forced to take antipsychotics but I didn’t know they could do this much damage.

This all goes without mentioning how worthless of a person I am to other people now.