I sit in my world of white. White walls, white robes, white skin. Everything around me seems to be a daily routine of unsurprising events. Bland is the word to describe my life to people on the Outer World. The outside of my mind that is.
My name is Gwyn Argall. I am 15. I have blue eyes. I have red hair. I have a mole on my thigh that no one ever sees. And I also have childhood-onset schizophrenia.
I was diagnosed at the age of 9. Nothing had really changed in my life. Everything was still acting the same in my cranium, but the Outer World drastically morphed into a life doctors, psychiatrists, and medication. The people around me started to look and treat me like I was a rabid animal in a shelter. No one wanted it, and everybody thought that the world would be a little safer if I were just put to sleep.
The fact is though, I am not a dog. I am not a danger to society. I am not a bomb that is waiting to go off. Like that dog, I cannot control my condition. No one around me can. I am happy to keep it that way. Maybe the dog would want to keep life like that too.
One thing that no one seems to understand is that some of my happiest memories have come out of my disease. No, I am not talking about all of those charities that give you childish trips to Disney world. My best friend lives up here. He is my saving grace and if the only thing that makes me feel sane, even though it makes me look crazy in the Outer World.
His name is Rangsey. He is 17. He has big blue eyes like mine, and shaggy blonde hair. He has a mole on the back of his neck that I love to stare at. He lives in my brain and no where else.
All the things I love live in my brain and nowhere else.
