I remember it vividly, recreate the setting constantly in my head, whether i like it or not. It's stuck in there like a tape..playing, pausing, and rewinding. Sitting in that wheelchair just thinking... why wont they let me walk? im not broken I can do it... as they go through each locked door so slowly listening to the click of the doors shutting behind me trapping me inside and trapping me inside my thoughts, feeling more scared with every step they take. A single tear rolls down my face slowly, biting my lip hard just trying to numb out, trying to be strong. After all its my fault im here anyway. They turn into an open room with a table and some chairs. A man in scrubs stumbles in while staring at the chart they had handed him seeming very uninterested in me being there. He says he will take my things and get them back to me later. I stand up not knowing what to do, they lead me into what is now my room... my space... what is supposed to be my safe spot... its dark and a nurse comes in and searches me. Who do they think I am? Of course I don't have drugs and weapons on me... They bring me to a small blank room and tell me to have a seat. I wait only a few minutes until a tall dark man comes in, he says his name is Nathan and he will be explaining the rules to me. We talk and he's
very nice. He cracks a few jokes as if that's going to help the fact that I am in the process of being admitted into a mental institution. Still terrified. Shaking. Sitting in the lobby. The smell of eggs and bacon make my stomach turn. Not hungry. I sat in that cold blue chair for an hour, the leather gives me chills, just waiting for the evaluation by another uninterested emotionless psychiatrist. Ten minutes goes by, and i'm stuck staring at the floor wondering how i got to this point... Twenty minutes, and i find myself mindlessly gazing out the sealed window, thinking about how nice it'd be to just feel the sting of the cold outside, in this uninviting room. Everyone that walks past trying so hard to be friendly but I can see the pity in their eyes. My heart feels like its beating out of my chest, so scared. They take me into a room. I look to the ground. Old, worn down carpet, just like the kind i had in my classroom as a kid. A nurse comes in and says its time for group, I go as they unlock a door leading into another that locks me in all over again... I look around the room, im the youngest person there... As the meeting starts I gaze around the room and notice how everyone is sitting based on the answers they are giving the teacher. The alcoholics on one side, the crazys on another and then the people not saying anything, including me, in the corners. They lead us back to our rooms. I fill out the paperwork they gave me and draw on my folder to distract my mind from the thoughts buzzing around. Am I just crazy? Why do they care? Why am I here? Its my life... and I wasn't that serious, I don't think... but its too late.
Another Psychiatrist.Three chairs, one desk, and a box of tissues. And of course, a pad lock on the door to keep me locked in here. Forty minutes pass, and i find myself lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. I hate being alone in my head..trapped in the past; how I ended up here. I looked down to my wrist, picked at the cuts... it stings but it feels nice, anything to distract myself from where I am and why im there. Behind the cuts lies the hidden story of my life. I look at the first one. It was just like the others. A sad scar takes me back to remembering the gentle pulses of crimson that for the first time hushed the demons shrieking inside my head. Move to the second one, and it takes me back to a time when all i remember was the door slamming, another fight.... Move to the third, and suddenly i see the text message that says "i can't do this anymore". I shake my head, just wishing it would make the memories go away. I close my eyes. I'm in my room, staring at the four walls i hide behind. I'm laying down, remembering the pills that are hidden in the drawer across the room. I feel the deep desire to spring out of bed and guzzle down my little keys to escaping this twisted world.. It comforts me knowing freedom is one gulp away. If i ever get out of here, maybe i'll try it.... this time do it right. But before i get a chance to decide, there's a light knock on the door, and a voice that says,
"Hi Shelley, ready to start?"
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