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Wednesday, November 22, 2015
Thank you for your concern, but it’s not needed. As much as you want to keep me in one piece, I don’t think it’ll happen. I’ve heard so many things and to be quite honest, I don’t know if they’re me or hallucinations.
On the bright side, I moved in with some nice girls. Roomate number one is what appears to be the most perfect girl I’ve ever seen. She knows five languages, but I guess we all have problems here. I’m just trying to find out why she’s here. Her name is Connie Chung. She’s a tall, slender girl, with black, straight hair.
My other roomate, Addison, is very particular about things. She always seems to stay to herself and only talks when necessary. A trait I definitely need to harvest myself.
A girl in over her head
Friday, November 24, 2015
Well, update on my roomates: Connie is a backstabber and Addison is the only thing keeping me sane. This conclusion came with a backstory that I’m excited to share!
It all started with Connie talking to us about how much she hated everyone here.
“Everyone here is just a psycho! I don’t know how to explain it!” She exclaimed, while exaggeratedly brushing her hair behind her ears with her hands.
“I just can’t! The staff here don’t listen to me, I’m tired of putting vaseline on my lips when they’re extremely chapped and this is just so insane!” Connie continued shouting at the mirror.
“Ugh!” Connie finished saying as her body slammed down on her bed.
Then, there was dead silence. I continued combing my hair like Connie never said anything because it seemed as if her mouth was a vacuum for words she didn’t even begin to understand. She is known and forever will be known as one of the most beautiful, but ignorant girls that has stepped foot in a room I was forced to live in.
But anyways, Connie seemed to be just having a rant session up until she started laughing when it was pindrop silent in our room. Then, her laughter turned into tears, the tears turned into pounding on the walls, and the pounding on the walls lead Addison to jump up with concerned etched on her face to ask a nurse for help, while I sat on my bed.
“This test was nice. It really shows what Addison thinks of me,” Connie stated plainly, picking her head up slowly with her hair still covering most of her face.
As, I fidgeted with my comb, still attempting to untangle the my hair, I was left with an uncomfortably silent Connie. Her mannerisms seemed to take ahold of her in a way I’ve never seen before, but I guess all of us are like that when we’re stuck in a mental hospital that we’re not aloud to make friends in.
“Are you okay?” Addison asked me, as she walked into our room and nurses escorted Connie out.
“I’m fine,” I answered, comb in one hand and untangled hair in the other.
And that was the end of that. Connie got placed into a different room for a few days for Addison and I’s safety and life in a mental hospital continued as normal as it could be.
A confused girl
Tuesday, November 28, 2015
I call my mom everyday. I eat lunch at the same place every day. I have expressive and movement therapy, group and narcotics anonymous with the same people everyday. I take the same pills, drink the same water and wear the same pair of socks that everyone wears. I’m not an outsider and never will be, but this one girl in my peripheral vision is what makes my heart flutter like it once did. She makes me enjoy waking up in the morning and seeing her sitting in the chair right in front of me. She makes my palms sweat like they do when I’m extremely jittery for no apparent reason, but most importantly, she’s makes a genuine smile appear on my face that has struggled to bring itself out in years.
A lovey-dovey girl
Wednesday, November 29, 2015
I finally have that girl’s name. It’s Rowan. She’s sixteen, really into anime, drawing, photography, and Hot Topic! Her hands are soft, her hair is even softer and I’m probably getting too into detail about how amazing she is, but for now, I want to savour this happiness because I don’t think it will last.
A happy girl who still has trust issues
Friday, December 1, 2015
Everything is always great in my head until I start to think about the past. I can’t even begin to fathom the deep impressions my mental health is doing to me. When I talk to Rowan, I can’t think of one coherent thought because I have such sporadic thoughts. I have my journal in one hand, but I’m fighting to keep tears from streaming down my face with the other.
It’s not even just tears. It’s the unknown. When will I get out of here? When will my brain even begin to comprehend all the thoughts I have?
But my fear arises from one thing: myself. Staying in this desolate place where I don’t know right from wrong is not helping me sleep at night and that’s what I need. Sleep. Everyone at the mental hospital tells me that and I need moments where I can finally close my eyes and escape from reality. I still have nightmares of bloody hands and people I killed for something as simple as being me.
Saturday, December 2, 2015
It’s a bit colder today and I refuse to bring a blanket with me. On the other hand, Rowan looked cute with her blanket wrapped around her, but everytime I look at her exquisite face, I imagined all the terrible things I went through yesterday. In conclusion, nightmares suck.
When I have to talk in group, my mind blanks, my eyes glaze over and I’m left in a state of shock. See, before I came here, there was this guy named Spencer that I liked. Spencer was great! He was tall, attractive, really into photography, singing and comforting me. Everytime I felt bad, he would be the shoulder I leaned on. Everyday I would see him in the halls, my heart would flutter in a way it never did. He was my first love, but I’m in highschool, so what do I know about love?
But anyway, Spencer would always be there. He would show up to my house and let me rant for hours. His arm would go around my shoulder and he’d look at me so fondly that he would help me erase all the horrid thoughts I had of ending my life. He was my saving grace.
Then, one day, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He clouded my thoughts so much that I couldn’t even write my name. His name and my name were written together so many times in my sketchbook, I lost count. His face was scribbled everywhere and during my planning period once, I broke down like I never broke down before. I went to go make copies and I couldn’t stop crying. My face was as bright red as a tomato, but my mind was as dark as an abyss. I thought of everything that could go wrong with Spencer. All those times that he would be there for me, were they all a lie? Does he even love me, or am I just pulling things out of proportion?
After that period, I still couldn’t think straight and I lost my thought pattern more and more and Spencer was to blame. The next period was Chemistry and low and behold, Spencer sat right next to me and looked at me with that look of adoration he always does and said, “I love you.”
“You what now?” I questioned, looking at him with a genuine look of curiosity.
“I. Love. You.” He stated confidently ready to support his claims with direct evidence.
“I love you too.” I responded hurriedly, while writing the notes on the board down.
“Good.” Spencer said while looking me deep in the eyes and giving me the most pearly white smile I’ve ever seen in my life.
After that day, I stopped having nightmares because Spencer would sneak into my house every night and sleep with me.
That continued for six months. We were two peas in a pod, until my thoughts grew colder, my stature grew thinner and the love in my heart dwindled away. I still loved Spencer, but I didn’t love myself and I couldn’t love myself. The mirror was my worst enemy and no matter how many times Spencer would see me in my underwear and compliment me, it didn’t help. When I was forced to face the reality that was my body, I couldn’t see a positive thing about it. My curly hair was a mess. My thighs were too thick for the rest of my body. My hands were too small. My neck was too long. My feet were too big. My breasts were too small. My butt was too big. But, the realization that my mind was getting the best of me was a pill that I wasn’t ready to swallow.
The following day, it was harder for me to see the bright side of everything. My hair was in its usual bun, I had on my most comfortable sweatpants and my eyes were the puffiest they’ve been in a while.
Those few months rolled by and it was the dreaded last week of school. My attire showed it and Spencer’s dismal expression made it that clearer. His last week of high school was the most horrendous week for me. He was going to start a new chapter in his life and I was going to stay in this hell hole we call school. His opportunities were all laid out for him, and I couldn’t even define what my opportunities were. He knew what he wanted his major to be in college and I was struggling with my grades in high school. It was so easy to let go and that’s exactly what he did.
After his graduation, he threw his graduation cap away just like all his love for me. All those moments we spent together meant nothing to him. Ya know, there were times where he would visit school and we would greet each other, but that would be it. He even told me he met a new girl, and I couldn’t see him for the amazing person he was anymore. All of those months spent cradled in his arms meant nothing. I blame myself for not loving myself and not being able to love him, since he, truly, was the one that got away.
Well, that was a hell of a lot to say, but I’m not even close to done. I’m just beginning to realize that you’re not supposed to make friends here, but I already began to love Rowan and that’s the biggest problem of all.
A girl who misses being embraced
Saturday, December 2, 2015
I miss Rowan and I just met her. Does that make any sense? I presume it doesn’t, but I don’t really care. Oh, and we stepped up our friendship a bit and we’ve gone to hugging! Her hugs are amazing and make me feel like I’m the only other girl in the room. On top of that, she’s giving me these looks that I’ve never gotten before, not even from Spencer. I feel so appreciated, so loved, so cared for and that cute look is the only thing to blame.
We’ve even begun the hand holding phase of our friendship. Beside those soft hands that grip onto mine for dear life, her eyes are the nicest green I’ve ever seen. Sometimes she even looks at me, as if to examine my features, but I think I’m just going crazy. It’s just a friendship. Though, she did call me beautiful while we were holding hands.
Sunday, December 3, 2015
Rowan and I kissed! It was just a few pecks! Well, okay, it was more than a few pecks. It was more like four full blown kisses and it was the most extraordinary thing I’ve ever experienced, but we’re just friends! I mean, that’s what she calls it and so, I’m obligated to call it that too.
Sunday, December 3, 2015
The hallucinations are worse than I thought. I tried to laugh them off by talking to Addison about them, but it didn’t help.
When everyone finally goes to sleep, the nightmares settle back in. My eyes are shut, but the physicality of the dream is too real. I’m on a killing spree, killing Spencer, Connie, Addison, and…
“Rowan!” I shouted.
“Yes, baby. It’s me.” Rowan comforted, hugging me with so much concern that I almost ran out of breath.
“I’m so sorry for everything. I killed you. I stabbed you. My one true love, I-”
“Your one true love?” Rowan questioned, letting go of me slowly.
“You know I have a girlfriend, right?” Rowan spat, instantly changing her mood.
“You didn’t actually think you had a chance did you?”
“Rowan. Don’t do this. This is not you. What about those kisses? You can’t tell me they were nothing. I felt those kisses. You gave me a little love bite on my neck and you’re gonna pretend that was nothing?” I pleaded, wiping away tears.
“Oh, Noemi. You’re so full of it! Those kisses were for me. I already told you I had a girlfriend before they even happened. Those hand holds, they meant nothing. It was all just fun and games and I’m tired of picking up your “broken heart” or whatever you wanna call it. Leave me alone and please keep those lovey-dovey moments to yourself because many people here are sick and tired of you saying how you go off on “inspirational tangents” when you really have no idea when to stop talking.” Rowan retorted.
“Well, thanks for the info. I’m sick and tired of the attitude I just found, but hey, look! I finally found out why you’re here! You’re an egotistical scumbag who is a poor excuse of a woman! So, in conclusion, I hate you and you can get the hell out of my room!” I confidently declared.
And that was the end of the whole Rowan fiasco. Geez, I seriously thought Connie was a wreck, but I guess we’re all here for a reason right?
A fierce femme