When he left on spring break, he was seeking a southwest adventure.
With Navajo native as a companion, they headed east to explore Anasazi ruins.
He was excited, enthusiastic, and focused.
Waving good bye, I did not know how much this trip would change him.
Somewhere after the Navajo nation tour, they ventured further east.
Inspired by their freedom, they channeled Jack Kerouac.
Texts came from Arkansas, Tennessee, and Florida.
His parents in Florida were unprepared when they both showed up.
The trip dramatically altered his easygoing personality.
His perpetual smile disguised a brewing internal chaos.
This blossomed after a side to trip to Cape Canaveral
When an agitated, unhinged side of him emerged.
Seeking relief from unrelenting turmoil, he drove off in his mother's car.
A drunk driver attracted to his unstable vibes crashed into him.
Though uninjured, the impact galvanized his closeted frenzy.
Renting a car he fled the scene, disappearing without a word to anyone.
His mother called me panicked, frantically trying to find him.
Intuitively I knew he was coming back to me in California.
Three days later he phoned his mom saying he was in Texas.
Driving back, he stoked his psychosis with pot & strangers from the road.
Arriving at my home he appeared happy, saying everything was okay.
His affect did not match any concern for the recklessness he caused.
Attempting to explain his behavior, he could only speak in circular gibberish.
Faulty fragmented reasoning centered on his dharma and grandiose musical aspirations.
Trying to connect with him was futile, as he was sincerely deluded.
Underneath his beaming, convivial expression, I could see inconsolable sadness.
Through confused logic, he formulated vanishing into Mexico would stabilize him.
There he could escape the Orange County people who were following him.
All I could do is patiently listen to his nonsensical ramblings.
His fixations and paranoia were more powerful than my persuasiveness.
My heart sank knowing I was powerless to intercede in his vulnerability.
Being a functional psychotic leaves one with no options.
What will happen to this bright, sensitive young man
Lost in a sea of polluted illusions spiraling him towards self-destruction?
Witnessing the cruelty of his decompensation
Has left me impotent, sad, and without hope.
Psychically knowing a train wreck is about to happen
Is incredibly painful to helplessly watch.
I can only let go and pray God will protect him from himself.
These are the times that try sanity's soul.
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