Reasons To Write

Miguel was seated in front of the word processor, tears running from his eyes. The keys were making their poetic sound. Rhythmically putting letters into words, words into thoughts and ideas that moved things deep within his heart.

“You’re crying again,” Jenny said. “Why do you keep writing?”

“I don’t know,” Miguel replied. “I thought about not writing...”

“You really should.”

“I just think about how dark and painful my life was. Not having any way to get healthier with schizophrenia.” Sitting in the dark Miguel stared into the light. “I can’t leave anyone to fight this on their own.”

From Guest Contributor Steve Colori

An Icy Lot

I cautiously got out of my car into the icy lot. A man in a chair was spinning his wheels.

“Do you need any help?” I asked.

“What the hell do I need help for? Everyone thinks the cripple needs help. Damnit, no I don’t need help,” he said.

“I’m sorry, I just thought...”

“That’s your problem. Think too much. What do you know about being crippled?”

“I have schizophrenia,” I said.

“Well, congratulations. We’re both cripples,” he said. He broke a smile and we laughed.

“You don’t feel bad for me anymore do you?”

“Not at all,” I laughed.

From Guest Contributor Steve Colori

Side Effects

The instruction on the bottle was clear: Don't fall asleep or you will die!

Lesley had no choice but to do everything possible to stay awake. She started with caffeine, loud music, and hourly callisthenics. Then she moved into harder drugs, inflicting pain on herself, and ice cold showers. By now, 48 hours had passed, and she began to wonder if she wouldn't die anyway. You could only go so long without sleep.

Eventually she succumbed to the sweet embrace of slumber. When she awoke the next morning, her schizophrenia medication had finally taken effect and her delusions were forgotten.