murder

Did you know that someone else's blood can be on your hands and you don't even have to do any physical damage to them? Words really do hurt people.
My dad remarried when I was 16 after my mother died from Lupus when I was 12. I knew that he couldn't be alone forever. It wasn't healthy...at least for him. He asked if I was okay with them marrying. No, of course I'm not. "Yea! If that's what you want." I said, trying to sound happy for him. Not long after that (by not long, I mean 2 weeks) they got married and she moved in along with her youngest son. Not long after that, I had to be taken back to a psych ward. Before I go on, please understand that this blog doesn't just relate to mental illness, but also to people in general.
"So, what's it like to be normal now?" My dad's wife asked me. I didn't know what to say so I just smiled and said "good, I guess." She wasn't the only one. Others used to say things like, "why can't you just take more medicine? Do you even need the medicine anyway?" or "Why can't you just be normal?" or, my personal favorite, "Are you feeling better today?" Schizophrenia doesn't just go away over night...or ever really, for that matter. I've been fussed at for being depressed. Teachers used to fuss at me and say "you seem so out of it! What is wrong with you?!" My dad's wife would say, "Can't you just be happy? Do you know what it does to your dad when he hears you out here crying and he can't fix it?" I don't know how much thought to type here because, years later, I still can't comprehend why on God's green earth someone would say that? I know that living and helping someone with a mental disorder can be tough, but imagine actually being that person.
People, please be careful what you say to one another. My mom taught me a little trick as a child. I told, on several occasions, my sister that I hated here. My mom, my real mom, had a hissy fit. She pulled, my sister, my brother, and myself into the living room. She said, "Andria" (my little sister) "go and hide behind the recliner." Andria did so. "Candace," my mom turned to me, "Andria is dead now. The last thing you told her was that you hated her. Now what? You sister DIED thinking you hated her. Are you still okay with your decision to say that?"
My point? DON"T BE A DOUCHE BAG. I don't care if you are atheist, christian, muslim, black, white, purple, green and yellow polka dot polly wog from Gula Gula Island, homosexual, heterosexual, transgender, hermaphrodite, or fat as fat can be. Don't be a douche. People literally kill themselves over mess like that. I know I have tried several times not just because hallucinations tell me to, but because people make me feel useless and in the way. I feel misunderstood and I know I am not the only one. Please, love everyone and
                                                                                      love, a schizophrenic