Walking Behind Schizophrenic Eyes. Perry Ritthaler

tells me inside my brain that person can hear what I think.

      I wonder what the government has done with my glasses; and if that is how the voices look into the thoughts I create in my mind. I feel like a trapped wild animal; and I keep wondering how the government talks to me; or how they can read my mind?

      After thirty-six hours on the bus with no sleep I feel like my mind is spinning out of control. The pressure in my mind has made my back tense; and the muscle tension pulling my spine apart is producing tears in my eyes.

      The pain in the back of my head makes my forehead perspire; I feel like a sharp bone in my spine is coming through the skin on my back.

      I have transferred from one bus to another five times; and I want to stop paying attention to the hand signals in front of me; working with the voices deep in my mind; telling me not to look up or move and sit still.

      The government is too big to fight in my brain; and after 40 hours on this bus ride from hell; I am giving in to the voices controlling my thought process.

      Tears are rolling off my face when I scream “I no longer care if the government can read my mind”.

      Suddenly everyone on at the bus stairs at me; my voices tell me see how many people work with us.

      I want to vent my rage on a rude man sitting behind me; he keeps kicking my seat every time I scream the words “stop”.

      Finally my teary eyes fill with rage; and I turned around to look behind me.

      The man is about forty years old; and he has long black hair hanging over his shoulders. I looked into the man with my wild eyes; and he looked back terrified to me. The man had the same kind of eyes you see in a wounded wolf. The eyes in his head were mysterious and light blue.

      I whisper to the man in a deep voice; I hate your guts.

      I am not sure but I think the government has sent him to bother me or try to hurt me. I sit back in my seat; and I feel afraid to turn around in case I turn violent; then I wonder if I should strike first and attack the man behind me.

      I think the man might be crazy.

      My roller coaster ride on the way to Hell suddenly ends when I realize I have arrived in the Dallas bus depot; and everyone on the bus rushes to the door to get off the bus.

      I felt good leaving the crazy man behind me on the bus; and when I walked into the bus depot; I telephoned Sarge from a pay phone. I could hear that Sarge was happy to hear my voice on the telephone; Sarge told me that he would pick me up in thirty minutes.

      I have been awake for over fifty hours; my brain feels like an exploded mushroom splattered on the dirty walls inside my head.

      As I sit alone waiting for Sarge I cannot help but wonder if the government has got to Sarge. The grey skies outside dampen my spirits; however I am looking forward to seeing my old friend. When he arrives at the bus depot our bond in friendship takes over and we hug each other tight.

      My time with Sarge is full of laughs and conversation of our past years spent together; a long time ago when we were both living in Winnipeg.

      I have been living with Sarge and his family for three days; I know from the many voices speaking to me deep inside my brain; the government has figured out what I am doing in Texas.

      Today Sarge and I travelled back to Dallas from his home in Plano; and enjoy having lunch with an old friend of ours. His nickname is Spot.

      While I am with my friends; I keep looking over my shoulder. I want to pinpoint the government agent that is following me around using a laptop computer to program the voices in my head; creating the thoughts rolling deep inside my brain.

      My lunch with Spot and Sarge bring back memories of our younger years; and days we all spent having lunch together on most Sunday’s in Winnipeg. I wish I could turn back the hands of time and return to those days we loved so much.

      I leave my marijuana pipe in the restaurant garbage can because I am out of marijuana. I am traveling by bus over the USA Canada border in two days.

      My friend Sarge does not smoke marijuana; so I do not ask him to help me find my marijuana. Besides I have no money to buy my drugs.

      Sarge is driving a beautiful brand new Mercedes SUV; and I wonder were Sarge got the money to buy a truck this beautiful. Sarge points at the roof of the vehicle; and then he told me that the truck is equipped with an “OnStar” system.

      I did not understand what Sarge meant by “OnStar”.

      Sarge told me that the government could listen in on our conversation at any time through the “OnStar” microphone. Then Sarge told me that he uses the “OnStar” system to find restaurants.

      I think Sarge is tipping me off and trying to help me get away from the government. My voices inside my head tell me they are concerned for Sarge; because they know he will pay dearly for tipping me off about the “OnStar” system.

      Sarge and I go back over thirty years; and I know he would never hurt me. In fact; for fourteen years he was my martial arts master in Winnipeg. We both trained three hours a day four days a week in a martial arts studio.

      Yes; those were the good old days; when we trained with martial arts weapons every day; and our bodies were like lethal dragons.

      I told Sarge he is lucky to have such a beautiful family.

      I had no trouble reading into Sarge’s comments. This “OnStar” information we shared was the easiest way for Sarge to tell me that the government will be listening to our conversations whenever we are in the vehicle.

      I know that Sarge will try to help me from a distance if he can.

      The government voices in my head tell me they will catch him helping me; because the government can listen to my thought patterns using my glasses on my face.

      The government found out Sean was not a strong enough man to hold me in Florida; and now the government is using my friend Sarge the same way to try and keep me in Texas. Every day Sarge and the voices in my brain tell me; I should move to Texas so Sarge and I can spend more time together.

      I am down to five dollars in my pocket; and I needed Sarge to help me buy a greyhound bus ticket to Canada. My destination to travel too is a small town in Alberta; named Olds.

      I know that if Sarge buys me the greyhound bus ticket he cares more about me than working for the government.

      Deep inside of my mind I want to escape from the government’s tight grip around my world; so I decided not to stay in Texas and I am Alberta bound.

      Sarge told me that he would help me get a bus ticket without question.

      Sarge told me that I have changed in the way I act. I thought my heart was going to burst when I tell myself Sarge may be right; I am not that same person.

      If my good friend only understood what the government was doing to me in my brain; shaping my behavior patterns into a cyber-war fighter. I am afraid to tell Sarge about the government voices in my head; because I figured out the government paid Sarge off; when they bought Sarge the fancy black SUV truck.

      The voices in my head agreed with me about Sarge; and then tell me not to rock my friend’s economic boat. In a need to know business; I did not want to involve Sarge and his family further into this government’s web of manipulation.

      Later that night Sarge bought me my Greyhound bus ticket in the bus terminal in Dallas. I was happy that my friend was financially benefiting from my psychological captivity created by the seamless government software voices deep inside of my brain.

      I have a fifty eight-hour bus ride ahead of me; and I hear the voices tell me; “Are you ready for your next training exercise”? I can feel the muscles tighten in my back; I feel afraid of the government voices that pull my spine out of joint.

      I wear my glasses on my wrinkled face less and