I often equate having schizophrenia to having a little devil on my shoulder that likes to whisper nasty stuff in my ear.
He’s a cunning little jerk, too. If he senses a vulnerability or the potential for anxiety he’ll start screaming.
In the eight years I’ve lived with the illness I’ve come to recognize these triggers and do a pretty good job of avoiding them. You can’t do it forever, though, and eventually the devil is gonna start screaming again.