Modern Day Schizophrenia

One of the most peculiar mental symptoms I find in this contemporary day and age is schizophrenia. The disease that creates a different perception of reality for one individual is not agreed upon the others. This in turn creates the fact that these individuals are just hallucinating, what they are witnessing is something they have just created inside their own minds. But aren’t we all victims of the same hallucinations? But the only difference is that we have the luxury to fantasize about those fears whereas these individuals make it a reality and deal with it everyday.

It was somewhere in between watching the Beautiful Mind and Woh Lamhe, that people with this mental disorder have the choice to face these fears. They spend each waking moment facing the reality and lies of what this world has to offer. In the lies that are created in their mental state is cleared up by their own inner struggle to find the truth. The truth of who they are, what is real and what is not. The most captivating scene, in which I had melted into goo, was in the Beautiful Mind. John Nash had entered his room to apologize to his wife about his behavior. His inner struggle to decipher the truth had led way to the climax of his frustration. Then in a mere instant, the frustration, anger, hurt had all dissolved when the wife held his hand and said, “This is real”. The camera pans up as she moves his hand to her face. Just a simple touch, feeling, sensation of belonging, warmth and comfort. Enough to provide motivation for John Nash to decipher the reality of his mental disorder.

The reason I bring this up, as mentioned above, is that I sometimes get lost in this fantasy. Spend day’s on end either it be in some meditative form or regular day, trying to understand and face my fears. I fail to realize it is just that, a mental form, perception and attitude. I have for a long time to run away from my fears, suppressing these emotions then going head in first into the dangerous elements. It has been with an attitude to defeat this fear and let it subside forever. But forever is never and time is always temporary. It has become more evident to me, that I must live with these fears in my mind or heart. Let them arouse inside me and invite them with open arms. I for one am this modern day schizophrenic, hell I would stamp myself with a seal if needed.

These grim realities/perception need to exist. They need to be there. So I am going to enjoy them and bask with them as I enjoy myself. But the difference is this: Allow/feel these fears but do not let them CONTROL me. I commend the people who are able to face their fears in reality.

You are already home

Excerpt from the article "The rental life" by Jesse Hicks
Full article is here Rental Life

Inside we found an austere, retro-modern décor teeming with hipsters. Behind them, the view of Times Square exploded so brightly it obliterated all detail.

Wardrobe NYC’s von Sperling had told me that New York, like its West Coast doppelgänger, Los Angeles, was a city of conflicted dreamers. Though they worked hard and played hard, somewhere deep inside they nursed a feeling of primal dissatisfaction with themselves. I knew that feeling, and now I was among them. They swirled around me with studied indifference, gazing down on Times Square with what they hoped was a look of ennui. Obviously, I wasn’t the only one faking it.

At first, the “cooler-than-thou” atmosphere felt oppressive. But as we sat on gold couches, drinking by candlelight and admiring the monochrome erotica on the walls, I began to feel at home. Despite my personality makeover and rented glamour, no one had yet recognized my extraordinary uniqueness. No one had greeted me with a red carpet and popping flashbulbs. I’d spent all this time making myself fabulous…and no one had noticed.

In a way, though, I had become one of them. Not by copying their look or aping the self-confidence that seemed to come naturally to them. The revelation, when it came, was a little like the ending of The Wizard of Oz. I didn’t need those ruby slippers—the car, the watch, the wardrobe—to go home. I’d been home all along, among people trying just as hard to impress me as I was them. We were all kindred spirits, self-conscious and playing dress-up for each other.

That’s how we’d all come together in this penthouse bar with overpriced drinks and a spectacular view. That’s what we were paying for, after all: the view of ourselves. For the price of admission—the price I’d paid for my rented persona, the time I’d put into becoming Brad Briggs—I got to watch other people, watch them watching me. We could play our roles until, like in a movie, we all disappeared, back out into the dark night from which we’d come.