depression drug addiction recovery mental illness nonfiction relationships schitzophrenia selfhelp Uncategorized

mind of illness: s c h i t z o p h r e n i c

To those of you who have been keeping up, thank you so much! I hope we can all get to a point where we understand the severity of mental illness and do our part in spreading awareness!

This next piece I was a tad hesitant on sharing, but it’s been a while since my last post and I want to be more consistent with my work.

Also, I decided to go back and reread my first book “The Fruits Of Addiction: A Pernicious Love” and I can understand why none of you were willing to read it 😂😂😂 God, yes everything depicted is accurate but my writing was TERRIBLE, ugh I ugly cringed after every page. So I decided to rewrite it and aside from my 2nd and 3rd book, I’ve been doing that on the side as well.

Btw yes, I’m writing a 3rd book 😂😂 it’s a book on poems, which I will be sharing here and there, for feedback. I’ve never been much of a poet but it’s so calming!!

Anyways enough of my personal updates, thank you for those who care!!! And on to part 3 of my “mind of illness” collection! I hope you like it!

i was once told that i was loved.

the person who told me that, was the same person who told me i would never amount to anything.

a lost soul with dreams to one day reach the heavens. born into mediocrity, domestic abuse, and mental trauma.

what does that make me?

am i loved?

am i a failure?

the scars patterned all over my body and my mind left a unique sense of trauma. all while the sound of a loved one’s voice resides in the deepest crevices of my brain, repeating each affirmation and censure faithfully as if it were a religious hymn.

“i love you!”

“i hate you.”

“miss you.”

“fuck you!”

“vete pa’l carajo, muerete”

“vos eres mi cielo”

Todas estas voces inunda mi mente…



my mind has become so overwhelmed, constantly racing between thoughts and topics.

i meant to say… all of these voices flood my mind everytime i find myself deep in thought.

what if i told you that i am nothing like the others?

What if i told you that i am not just another slave with the sole purpose of pleasing?

i crave a profound love, i crave spiritual connection, i crave peace. You don’t know how much i crave peace…

Peace of mind,

peace amongst my people,

peace when i enter my dreams,

but i know that is just another empty notion…

yet when i close my eyes i see the face of another tormented soul. another pained individual who shares the same moralities as myself. tormented, plagued with the same curse.

Whose demons haunt her at every sign of silence. tortured by the hand of her own mentality… yet full of love and hopes for prosperity and absolution. both of us calmed by our favorite drugs, leaving us temporarily numb, silent, &addicted.

the sins of our forefathers are what define us. &although we are destined for failure, i am pleased that i am no longer alone. i am pleased to know i was never alone…

but as i reach for a kiss, a symbolization of the mutuality forged by our predetermined fates, i finally open my eyes and realize:

there isn’t anyone there.

there never was.

the face of that beautiful poor soul whom i had fallen in love with was nothing more than a myth i had forced myself into believing.

no matter how much i pray, there is no silence, there is no salvation; solitude is where i reside.

i wish i could vow that it gets easier. that it will one day become manageable. but i developed a powerful habit, one that rivals my addiction to the euphoric numbing:


the realization that there is no hope, the realization that there is no escape, and the realization that those voices weren’t of loved ones, they were my own.

the voices of the many identities i oppose.

or better yet, oppose me.

-Jay. “The Fruits Of Addiction: A Pernicious Love”

a side note:

Just wanted those of you who may have taken anything I said offensively for whatever reason. Maybe because of my own depiction of schizophrenia, my take on mental illness, or how my work highlights the negative aspects of each illness.

Regardless I wanted to take this time to say that I am in no way romanticizing mental illness, or demonizing it. I have hundreds of pieces prewritten, from scholarly journals and studies to personal views and opinions. With that being said, I am using this tiny platform to hopefully portray the mind of those who face these issues and give my readers a glimpse of what their loved ones may be feeling. Maybe it’s not you who ever feels this way, but it is certainly me.

. Thank you for reading.

depression drug addiction recovery nonfiction relationships selfhelp

mind of illness: d e p r e s s e d

For those who have been keeping up with my work for as long as I’ve been writing, i appreciate you all so much!! As long as I enlighten or at least provoke a thought or two, I am happy. As you all know, my goal is to spread awareness on the many issues that revolve around addiction and mental illness.

With that being said, here is my second part to the little collection of excerpts I decided to start writing.

I wrote this for those of you who have been- or are- depressed, can understand the isolation and the darkness you feel from this seemingly never ending prison. I’ve been stuck for so long that it felt as if I was no longer myself, i eventually hated myself more than usual.

With that being said, I hope you enjoy part two of my “mind of illness” collection!!

The soul. So powerful, so deep…

So beautiful, yet so fragile.

The soul craves a sincere commitment that is reciprocated through affirmations. If the soul is deprived of that, it will grow weak thus leading to reticent behaviors. For a soul with no love has no purpose;

Upon that realization, I looked towards a quickly dimming light. One that felt familiar but I could not recognize at first.

As I approached what had resembled a dyin sun; I was stripped of everything that had once defined who I was.

See, my soul had lost the vitality of a vibrant love;

a vibrant love that had also shaped who I was so long ago….

The laughs, the smiles, and the kisses I was once showered with had become ephemeral memories. They turned into cries of pain and glares consisting of hateful eyes looking up and down. I had become the sole reason as to why my future suffered.

I was unwilling to embrace this new change and ran towards that dying glint. The constant running tired me and I began to lose track of the purpose I looked to secure…

After a while, the sweat became tears, and the tears then dried into an empty stare. The light grew more and more distant until I could no longer see it. Any trace of purity I held onto had disappeared along with the very light I valiantly yearned.

I changed directions, accepting what my fate had become. Accepting the darkness, accepting the poignant embodiment of this dismal self-identify; a reminder of who I was never meant to become. Where I’m heading there aren’t any more smiles, there aren’t any kisses or laughs.

Once I reach my destination, I promise you one thing:

who I was will cease to exist,

and who I will become will no longer hold any recollection of this past life.

• • •

So leave me be, don’t try to find me, for I can no longer find myself. This darkness is deep and chaoticly captivating, the light I held on to is now a visage of the hopes I will eventually lose.

I am no longer reachable, for the darkness has no time. It is unvarnished and it has no urgency. Once one is lost in here, the only thing one can see is the memories of a past life, the only thing one can feel is the silent caressing of the cold.

I breathe out the warmth, releasing any notion of approbation. And I breathe in the cold, the reaffirmation of a desolate stay… For depression has no friends, no family, and no love… All of which I gave up, the second I began running.

-Jay. The Mind Of Illness:

d e p r e s s e d

The Fruits Of Addiction: A Pernicious Love

drug addiction recovery nonfiction relationships selfhelp Uncategorized

mind of illness: a d d i c t i o n

There are many factors when discussing mental health. As a result of my many experiences with mental illness and addiction, I’ve decided to create a few excerpts that highlight my mentality and my thoughts when going through each issue. The deep thoughts I’ve had, the life-changing epiphanies I’ve contemplated.

When I fall asleep and relive each trauma, and every sin, I can’t help but think, what would I say to my younger self?

“Stay away from drugs??”

“Go to that military school you were accepted to, fuck what mami says about the distance??”

What can I say to someone who also experiences what I do?

Although I’ve tried to describe my experiences with addiction, the “Jay” who wrote and published that book isn’t the Jay who’s been updating my audience this past year and a half since starting this journey. I grew, I succeeded, I failed and I digressed from my original goal. Whether I stayed on the path or not, I still would be a different person. I’ve had a set of issues that now influence my decisions and although this path to recovery is never-ending, I believe that the key to staying sober is accepting who I once was.

So here I am; writing another post. The first excerpt in my “mind of illness” collection. In a way this is what I wish someone told me before I decided to take that first little pill that turned my life upside down..