On hearing voices while at Elementary School to pick up my son

The paranoia had returned, and it had brought with it overstimulation. I was at the elementary school of my son, who was in second grade, my three year old younger brother and son in tow. It had come onto me on the ride to the school, and I had attempted to stave off the symptoms with a bit of seroquel in the car as well. It was the worst 15 minutes of my day, to be sure, waiting for Tyler to come from Art Club and sign him out. The art teacher, usually not talkative after the club let out, decided to ask me about my younger son today. I answered curtly that he was my youngest, as any schizophrenic who just wanted out would do. The time had come to go home, and I knew a ride from hell awaited me. No matter, soon I would be home, in the confines of my safe house, I could rest up and let the demons pass. -Everything2show4