Notes Taken From the
Personal Journal of a Crazy Person
I suppose I should be hopeful, though I doubt anything good will come of this. I'm surrounded by crazies, and I can't get a real grasp of their individual problems.I pray that I'm out of here by Tuesday. Mackie's gettin' married on Wednesday, sick shit that he is.
I came to St. Vincent's Hospital for Crazed fuckups at 9:30 this beautiful Thursday morning, and finally got dumped into psychiatric at 3:30. I spent too much time waiting, growing more anxious in the ER.
At least it wasn't all bad, there was some interesting stuff going on down there all day. I was assigned a young black nurse to keep watch over me. When I asked her why, she told me it's because people in my situation tend to do stupid things when unsupervised, and it's hospital policy to try and prevent that.
I remarked that that made her a glorified babysitter, and she laughed and said not to get ahead of myself, she wouldn't be changing any diapers.
The ER was all hustle and bustle.
Of the people I saw come and go;
there was a fireman who had been caught under falling debris in a building fire,
an anemic woman who looked like death but claimed all she needed was some candy,
and my personal favorite, a crack fiend coming off of a high, just dancing his heart out.
I asked the nurse how often they got cases like him, and she says there's usually a couple a week, burnt out crackheads who need to detox and come back to sanity before they go out to shoot up again. I laughed at the fact that the junkie and the fireman shared a bedspace- it seemed to me so pleasantly awkward that these polar ends of a social spectrum could be brought to the same level.
Eventually I get brought, via wheelchair, to the Reiss pavilion, where I will be staying for the next indeterminable amount of time. At a first glance, I hate the place. I'm on Reiss 6, where the lighting is bad and everything else is, well, worse. No music, no phone, no nothing. I can deal with the phone, but the music will kill me. Being disconnected from friends only makes it all worse. Edgar and Sierra can't even visit me in here, so what kind of bullshit is this place? At first glance, I determine I'm the sanest person here. Oh lord, I pray I don't hurt myself.
Or the rest of them.
It's around 9 on Saturday now, as far as I can tell, considering they haven't got any fucking clocks, and I swear I shouldn't be in here.
Three appears outwardly normal, but there is certainly something chemical going on off-screen.
Six flips out, pounding walls and windows with no warning as the staff do nothing but try and calm them down by talking to them.
Worse, though, than the behavior of my fellow inmates, is the.... deadness in the way they walk around. The life seems beaten out of them here, like they've lost their sense of belonging. They shuffle mindlessly when they aren't jumping off the walls, even the smallest of them.
It's a fucked-up ghost town in here, and I can't help looking out the windows, envious of all the people who can come and go as they please. Locking all the doors only lends to the oppressive feeling of imprisonment.
There's nowhere to go and nothing to do, and the general aimlessness of everyone here makes me feel like a caged animal, pacing behind the bars, waiting for the day the zookeeper is a bit lazy with the padlock.
In fairness, not all is bad.
There's someone here who makes me feel a little less alone, and more capable of making it through this endeavor with my remaining sanity intact. I called her Nine on my first couple days, but I think her name is Stephanie, and she's here for the same reason as me - attempted suicide.
In a rush to leave before the game's over. She and I can relate.
She's not the prettiest girl in the world, but nowhere close to ugly. She is the best looking, best dressed, most "welcoming" person I've met yet. To put the cherry on the cake, she seems to be pretty sane as well.
She talks to me in spite of my general 'fuck off' attitude. I don't know what, If anything, will happen between us, but for now I'll see what happens.
I'm rooming with Six. He flipped a shit before, when I first arrived, and if he tries it with me, he'll be lucky he's in a hospital.
I think it's time to go to sleep, but I can't be sure. I have more to say but I feel Six's eyes on me, and I hear the night shift nurse making her rounds, saying the hospital-mandated 'good night'(s).
Tricky bastard Edgar finagled it so he could come visit me today. Told 'em he was my cousin or something.
I guess they don't really look into these kinds of things.
Good friend, Edgar. He made sure to get some horse in for me too. He's allowed to bring me food, so he put a bundle into a Subway sandwich. Thank god, I was starting to really bug out, too.
Me and Stephanie are really vibing with each other. Turns out, she's a big fan of the dope, too. Maybe I'll share some with her.
I think she digs me. Not sure though. It could just be cause I'm the only other mostly sane person, and definitely the most sane of the guys here.
Plus I got all this charm, you see.
tHeY TOOK mY NOTEBOOK. ThEY useD it as EVideNcE for SoME BULshIT DIagnOsIS ABout DISSassoCiaTIVe IdENTity DIsoRdER. NoW aLL I HAvE IS ThIS CRayOn aNd a tORN pIEce of My BooKS tO WrITe on.
THe nEw dRUgs ThEY hAvE me on mAkE mE fEEl dEAD iNSide