May 17, 2012 § 1 Comment
Maybe when the mud dries up your nightmares will stop.
May 27, 2011 § 5 Comments
Hallucinations were my friends before I went into the mental hospital.
Truth be known, I never admit all.
Truth be known, it’s probably the things I can’t talk about, refuse to blame, it’s probably those things that are the most poisonous.
But my mouth says…
It’s not my drunk, abusive father.
It’s not my already revealed addictive personality.
It’s not the 3 years I spent ____.
It’s not those things. I’m broken! I begged them to understand this. There MUST be a medicine for the special kind of fucked up I am. That’s what I was promised, talk and medicine, fix you right up.
Once doped up and still in the Quiet Room, I started to see things. The sedative worked swimmingly. I was no longer fighting the staff, but I was no longer fighting other things either. Everything I held at arm’s length had yielded smallest scratches.
I saw him in the corner of the room. Same shirt, greasy long hair. He started walking towards me but no progress was made and his lips were moving and no sound was coming out but I knew what he was saying anyway…I was making it worse. And no one will believe a fat girl. Dont forget I asked, bitch.
My body was not mine to give, he just took it. I did not want this thing back in my life. I wanted it to end but here he was STANDING in the fucking corner of a padded locked room and I felt unable to move.
And for that, I was grateful.
Towards the end I didn’t even struggle, my fault it happened again and again, my fault it didn’t stop, I should have fought every time but the wrist bruises were hard to hide and I ran out of excuses for cuts on the sides of my lips and swollen eyes and this time I could blame the medicine, not myself for not stopping it.
He got halfway across the room and pulled his shirt out of his pants. Like before. All of his movements were familiar to me. I felt vomit rise in my throat. I started to call out and one of the staff came in, the burly guy who had restrained me early, a real hard ass.
“Here. Someone there someone hurt me…” I’m not making sense! Fuck! I thought. As my eyes slowly opened and closed.
“No one is going to hurt you. No one is here. “
“Looking at me…” For he was, his face was growing redder and redder, like when I pissed him off by running or the time I tried a pencil and ended up with it in my leg.
God this is hard to talk about.
“No one is looking at you, just your bear.” A tear slid down to my ear. Fucking ratty old bear, used to hide my weed in his hat.