Story time #1 "Used to be"

When people find out I am schizophrenic, they usually ask me, "is it scary?" Yes. Yes, it is. So, I thought that I might share a few true stories on here every now and then . This is story #1. Ya ready? Cool.

I was 12 years old when I first met her. Her name is "Used to be a Lady." I call her "Used to be" for short. Used to be is, as you can probably tell by the name, a hallucination. She was never really tall at all. She probably stood just under 5 feet tall. She had white shaggy hair and big eyes. Her skin was black and leathery. All she ever did was stare. As time went on, Used to be changed. 

Soon, she was nothing but a small creature crawling around on fingers and toes because she had no legs anymore. Her head stayed the same, but her back shrunk into a small table top. She hissed and gurgled as she chased me. I'd run into a room and slam the door. She would just go under the door. She'd crawl on me while I was in bed and try to crawl into the bath tub with me. She was very frightening at first. Until one night...

The hot water was running over my tired feet. The steam drifted upward towards the fan and steamed up the mirror on its way. Pandora radio station played loudly on my phone. It was my only way of drowning out some of the voices. I heard over the music, something scratching at the door. In came Used to be from under the door. Frightened, I sat straight up but she just sat there. I decided that since she has never actually harmed me before, that she wouldn't this time and that meant she was harmless. She just sat and starred. I finally got the guts to ask, "Who are you and what do you want." Not a word. I had been calling her Used to be, but wanted to see if she had an actual name. Something less frightening like Suzy or Amy...no. She just sat there. "Is it alright if I call you 'Used to be?" Not a word. I continued to ask questions like "where are you from? What do you want?" There was never an answer. I decided that she was still harmless and just liked to follow me. From that day on up until about age 20, I saw her everywhere I went. All she did was gurgle and scratch things. 

Something had changed her. She used to be a Lady. She used to be happy and free, but something beat her. Was she schizophrenic too? Was life to cruel to her? I'm not sure. She often made me laugh so not every part of her was gone. Maybe she'd been different if someone could have been able to 

Love, a schizophrenic.