5.

There is a word, a particularly powerful word, that is just now coming to mind. "Sick." What does this word mean? It implies some sort of illness. But when I was in high school, things like deviant sex acts were "sick"; things like bizarre, obscene behavior was "sick"; anything that utterly revolted, that made one despise, that was something to be completely shunned, was "sick". That was in high school. That was before I became sick. That was when I went along with the rest of them, went along agreeing that certain things were sick, looking down upon everyone who was perverted enough to actually be sick. Homosexuals were sick. Perverts were sick. That was before I became sick.

Much of what you read here will be sick. It will be hard to relate to. Don’t be surprised if you say to yourself, "This guy is sick." Schizophrenia, though perhaps the most tragic of diseases, is not a triumph-over-tragedy tale you see on daytime talk. And not because we don’t sometimes triumph. Because, when we start to tell our tales, to tell of the distortion and ugliness in our very minds and hearts, people do not say so much, "That must be terrible for you," but rather, "It must be terrible to be you."

One time, not long ago, I was commenting on the frightening appearance of a doll my step-niece particularly liked. My stepsister, her mother, agreed that it was frightening. I said, "It’s like one of those dolls in the movies that come alive and chop people up." "Yeah," said my stepsister, "you mean like some sort of psycho baby."