| i keep seeing fred on the streets.
i know its him. i know it is.
he has the deteriorated face that aids left him with.
once, i saw him in the back of a truck.
then another time, i saw him crouched in a corner, eating with his fingers out of a cardboard box.
i wanted to scream his name, but i was in my car and there was no way for me to stop without causing an accident or scene.
i just want him to see me, walking, outside of that place.
i wanted him to call me ladybird and i wanted him to tell me hes okay.
hes doing better.
but he doesn't look better.
and he isn't in a home like he told me he knew he needed to be to protect him from himself.
|
| |
| my stay in the mental institution was probably the craziest experience of my life.
its like reality television.
i got put on the 13th floor with a wide variety of mentally disturbed patients.
and i was one of them.
there were 2 tvs, but nothing in your room. and you have to discuss what to watch with an angry guy that hates you and a guy that talks to himself repeatedly and a girl who, the night before, told you that you fucked up your boyfriend forever and he will never be the same again.
no locks on the doors.
they would always come in just to make sure that i wasn't hanging myself with shoe strings.
of course, they had two cameras in every room.
and when you would pass the nurses station, you could see everyone in their beds on a huge monitor.
we all slept in the fetal position.
one night, they wouldn't give me my pain medicine, and the nurse was a total bitch.
i told her "i fractured my pelvis in three places ONLY THREE WEEKS AGO DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THAT SHIT HURTS??"
they dont like it when you yell.
they put you in a room and strap you down and give you a shot that turns you into a zombie.
luckily it never happened to me, cause that shits scary..
and whenever someone got locked in the room, we would all freak out and bad things would happen all at once.
anyways--so i went in my room. i was laying on my bed bawling my eyeballs out.
then i got really mad and threw my wheelchair across the room, knowing full well theyd see it.
then i basically scooted myself to the shower, threw out the chair (cause i couldn't stand at that point) and laid on the bottom of the shower and turned the water really hot.
i cried. a lot.
to be continued.
|
| |
| i wasn't trying to kill myself.
i hadn't thought it out that far.
i'm a prisoner in my own mind and that can make a person crazy.
my friends are amazing.
my parents love me.
my boyfriend is pretty much perfect.
so why did i jump?
i have issues.
but i'm working on them.
read my entire xanga to get a glimpse of what its like to suffer from clinical depression.
i exploded.
i jumped.
i'm healing.
|
| |
|
i feel like my heart is a stone suspended by strings
and i dont know what will happen if they snap.
my lungs are fiberglass and it hurts to breathe and it might be worth it just to quit.
my insides are heavy
my body so tired from carrying this weight around.
i just want to lay here until someone convinces me to get up.
and theres only one person that can convince me.
but its possible that he'll give up before trying.
you can't hold on to too much at once, something is bound to slip.
& whats most important might be what falls
|
| |
| i'm writing this in full confidence that nobody will read it.
i am so afraid to feel.
i miss the emptiness.
the haze of it.
i've trained myself.
i turned it off and now i cant remember how to be human again.
i forgot on purpose because i knew it was whats best for me.
but what the fuck do i know.
|
| |
