Edward had been diagnosed with schizophrenia. No tests had been conducted in this diagnosis. Just three people had come together, looked at him and said that he had schizophrenia. If this was some sort of medical test, then it was a poorly constructed test at that. A truthful or accurate test would be to have an MRI scan conducted, if, in fact, he did have schizophrenia. An MRI test would have shown that a chemical imbalance was apparent and from that information they could conduce a diagnosis of schizophrenia. But this had never been done. All that had been done was three people gathered in a room and called him a name. And now that he had been diagnosed with schizophrenia, he thought he had schizophrenia and because he thought he had schizophrenia, he was somewhat limited on the cans and cannots of contemporary living. Now, the world and human nature had meant to evolve a long way since the discoveries of mental illnesses.

And it had evolved. That was; corporations, businesses and other institutions of power had evolved to take advantage of people who had been diagnosed with a mental illness. That meant that if you had received a diagnosis of a mental illness. Then you were fucked. And Edward was fucked. Fucked by his upbringing, fucked by false friends, fucked by the places where he had worked and fucked by the system. And not the good kind of being fucked either. The kind of fucked where a pipe, used for septic tanks, is inserted into your anus and then they send a swarm of gerbils down the thing, then the gerbils crawl up into your insides and eat you from the inside-out.

Now people were telling Edward to be positive. Just be positive and things will get better. And in a way he was positive; positively fucked. He had thought he could escape the diagnosis by moving overseas. But that was impossible, he found out, as he came to realise that other cultures were just as opposed to working with those diagnosed with a mental illness as those in his home country. He found out that due to his diagnosis of a mental illness, he was unable to work in any vocational equivalent to that in which he desired to.

But in contrast to opposition. That is to say, he had something to prove, and what he had to prove was this. He had already been discounted by one institution of education upon admission of the medication he took. So he signed up for another course. One in which he could complete online. The online course was globally recognised, so he believed by doing this he would be making a point of his capabilities.

He did not resent those of the country that he had travelled to. It was just the way the country was. You could not hold them culpable for the range of neglect he had been treated with in his home country. This was another matchstick in a barn made of matchsticks.

The only idea that gave him peace was the idea that, one day, the barn would be engulfed in flames.


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