Trapped. I couldn’t help him, all I could do was stand there and watch him yell. He was trapped, stuck in his own mind. He couldn’t move, he could barely breathe. He was tearing himself apart and all I could do was sit there. They diagnosed him about six years ago. Schizophrenia is what the doctors said it was.

His hands gripped his hair as if he wanted to rip off the blanket that was covering the truth. I couldn’t imagine what he was seeing. Was it demons of the past, back again to haunt him? Or was it his worst fear constantly replaying like a non-stop carousel. I would never know because his mind was something I would never truly understand.  His mind was where he was trapped… trapped forever.

People say the mind is a beautiful thing, but is it really all that beautiful when it’s eating itself up and slowly shriveling away?