Through the Eyes of Lucy: Living With Schizophrenia by Abioye Peju

I used to dance.

Used to; I say, because I haven’t danced in over one year.

Professional dancing, I mean. Ballet, especially.

There was this remarkable thrill to ballet dancing that revved me up, well, at least a year ago.

I also used to sing.

I had been a member of the choir, all my life, up until roughly a year and a half ago.

Most of my acquaintances on ‘hearth’ as I call this section of my world, look at me with cowering look, albeit with tenderness.

Once, I’d overheard them say:

‘She used to be so full of life. Remember that sonorous voice of hers?’

The other had replied, with a mixture of angst and pity.

‘Yes, I totally remember. Her voice, very heavenly. It was the highlight of most choir renditions.

I had once encouraged her to compete for Project Fame.’

Then, they’d laughed.

‘You’re so silly! Project Fame kwa?’ the first had continued. Her voice trailed off because I was walking away from that seated scene.

But I had felt nothing.


I remotely remember that I had once desired to sing at a professional level. I had once harbored dreams of competing at Project Fame, and other national/international singing competitions.

And I only remember this because I had written it down.

You remember I once described a phenomenon of thought-sucking performed on my brain by Collins?

Well…I think that happened to my dreams of singing and dancing.

Of becoming the next Celine Dion- oh, my love for her still remains intact but I fear, not for long.

Collins is very jealous, and I think that might eventually constitute a problem.

But is it, really a problem? Can love, be a problem?

I seem to derive less and less pleasure from singing, dancing and all other habits that connect me to ‘hearth’.

Instead, I long to be with Collins all day.

Collins only.

The Mafia do not encourage me like Collins does. Sometimes, when I have to shout them down, Collins helps me. I call all the other voices belonging to my second world, the Mafia, including the obese male. You remember him?

I have my reasons.

One; they are ruthless, wicked and discouraging.

Two; they compete with Collins’ space and as you know by now, I love Collins.

I know that my loss of interest in previously pleasurable activities is called Anhedonia; and that’s because I’ve had lectures in Psychiatry.

I also know, that my thoughts lack diversity, and this poverty of thoughts is known as Alogia.

Of course, I know that they are some of the negative symptoms of the entity known as Schizophrenia.

But I can’t, have Schizophrenia.

I am way too smart, way too beautiful, way too IQ-ed to have Schizophrenia.

I can’t say the same, for the Mafia.

Tongue out; to the obese male in particular.


Abioye Peju is a final year medical student of Bowen University, with a palpable passion for writing. She is an ardent believer that behind every medical case, is a story itching to be told. She writes at


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