Birds fly south in winter

January 15, 2011
By tavvie BRONZE, Selangor, Other
tavvie BRONZE, Selangor, Other
2 articles 0 photos 4 comments

“I must be crazy to be in a loony bin like this.” Famous line from “One flew over the Cuckoos nest”. Favorite movie of all time. Watched it at least 10 times. At least. Funny isn’t it, how life can trick you, just when you think that youre the trickster, the one in control of your life, your life takes control over you. Maybe its more ironic than funny really, considering that all my life, I’ve been cherishing this movie, devouring every minute of it, and pitying the mad hatters off in their little own fairy land, when here I am. Me. In an asylum. How hypocritical. Guess I let life take control of me as cliché as it sounds. Asylum. It’s a funny word; Asylum. Slips right off your tongue, makes you think of banshees and wild, grey haired, milky eyed, ghost maidens floating around dusty hallways cursing at some sort of higher power. The one place I’d never thought I’d go. Crazy? Me? Who would have ever thought that little miss perfect could get this screwed over. I must be crazy to be in a loony bin like this.

I look around and I’m trapped. Literally and figuratively. The claustrophic, empty, alienated, pale white room stares back at me in a mocking manner, as if to say “ ha! Look at you! You’re stuck here, you’ll never get out of this dump you insolent loon!” I lay back down own the bed. The cold, hard, barren bed. Absent of warmth and comfort. I pull the stark white sheets over my head. I feel the Styrofoam from the bed pound my back feeling hopeless and mad. The madness stemmed from my soul driven from anguish and anger and deep frustration tingles every part of my body, leading me to a strange sort of mad man frenzy feeling. My eyes feel heavy but I don’t know if it looks that way. I have no mirror in my room. The doctors are afraid I’m gonna smash it and use the broken shards to cut myself or commit suicide or something. What complete cow cookies. If I had wanted to commit suicide, I would never do it here. Why would anyone want to die in this hellhole?

I long to see what the world looks like. I haven’t seen it in a while now. The outside world is foreign and unfamiliar to me. I used to have a window in my room, it was nice. I could see people walking by, laughing over the most trivial things, dancing, and shouting. The creeps that monitor this place took it out after I tried to break the glass and escape from this miserable, satanic coven. What I miss most is love. Love. I don’t even remember what that even means anymore. The concept seems so strange, so far away. There is no love here, just screwed up zombies mumbling to themselves and pokerfaced nurses walking in and out of the rooms. Sometimes, occasionally, I’ll see family members come in with serious faces and leave very fast. But it’s very rare. My family never comes to visit me. Not even once. I have no family, only my foster family, and the idiots who sent me here.
I hear a faint knock on the large, lime green, metal door. Thinking it’s just a silly fragment of my imagination, I ignore it. I hear the knock again, except it’s louder now. The door opens and a fully uniformed nurse straddles in carrying a tray with a small plastic cup filled with two brightly colored orange pills and a small cup of water as well as a rather large cup of brown, syrupy liquid. I spin around like a stunned jackrabbit caught red handed in the footsteps of a cold-blooded hunter.
“ Its medicine time, Ms. Cardwell”
I stare coldly at the nurse with the sour face and pursed, cherry red lips as she speaks to me.
I stare at the tray, my eyes glazing around the room, shifting my weight to the left side of the bed.
“ Ms. Cardwell, you need to take your medicine so you can get better” she says in a husky voice putting on a fake smile as if she were some sort of mother Teresa.
I stare long and hard at the tray and smack it right out of her hands. The tray flies and eventually, crashes to the floor causing a mess of water, pills, and oozing brown syrup to spill everywhere.
“ IM FINE!” I snap back, “ I don’t need medicine or you or anybody for that matter! I’m fine! Let me tell you one thing, I’ll be out of here faster than you know it! I’ll fly away from here! From-from Everywhere!”
“ Well, good luck with that” she laughs in a sarcastic matter.
“ I’ll fly away like birds fly south during winter. I’ll go down south. I’ll start over again; I’ll have a new identity. I can reinvent myself.”
The nurse stares at me in an awful, disapproving matter, then picks up the tray and looks at me. I look into her eyes. I see pity and kindness, though her face showed defiance and shallowness as she leaves the room and locks the door.
I look down at my feet. I’m gonna escape from this place. I’m not gonna be here forever. I’m gonna fly down south, just like the birds.

Maybe, I really am crazy.

The author's comments:
I watched the movie "One flew over the cuckoo's nest" and really enjoyed it. It inspired me to write this piece. I can also relate to the main character ( Mindy Cardwell) as although I have never been in an asylum, I too feel judged and misunderstood and trapped sometimes. I think we all feel confused and misunderstood at some points of our lives, just like Mindy.

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This article has 2 comments.

poopz said...
on Jan. 3 2012 at 2:10 am
This is quite good! Keep up the good work!

on Jan. 19 2011 at 6:25 am
very well written. Beautiful piece . Reminds us all that there is hope :) 


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