Last night found me late in the kitchen cooking a pan of cornbread and a skillet of hamburger helper cheeseburger macaroni. Rosa was sitting at my kitchen table.
“I got worried about you earlier when I called and you wouldn’t answer,” She said after walking over.
“My dreaded phone phobias are acting up,” I replied. “I’ve got my answering machine and the ringer turned off.”
“What scares you about the phone?” Rosa then asked.
“People scare me,” I replied. “People can say and do some of the most hurtful things and I shy away from contact. I sometimes wish I lived on a deserted island.”
I was having a rough go of it last night and it also showed by the hurtful things I wrote on my blog about Diana. I was extremely paranoid and thought everyone was out to get me. I hate it when I get like that.
“Schizophrenia is a selfish disease,” Rosa then said.
“What makes you say that?” I asked, confused.
“Well, first of all, you think you are so important that people are out to get you,” She said. “You only think of yourself.”
I didn’t like where this conversation was going and grew quiet. I genuinely don’t consider myself a selfish person. I go beyond and above the call most of the time for my friends and the people in my life.
“You got quiet,” Rosa said.
“This just drives home my feelings about people being callous and hurtful. What you said hurt my feelings,” I responded.
I wanted to be alone as we sat eating. I wanted to be anywhere but here. Rosa finally left and I sighed with relief. She was in a confrontational mood and I was ill prepared for it. I went and lay in the bed for several hours thinking until I finally drifted off to sleep. I was glad to have yesterday behind me.