It was damp and cold, maybe I was in hell itself. Those who are suppose to help lie, maybe they lie to themselves? Could they be as crazy as us, do they believe because the have power over us that the world belongs to them? Hope does not exists here, it’s been forcefully ripped from our cold, lifeless hands as punishment for our crazed, delusional mind bent beyond help.
Hearing voices and seeing shadow people in corner of my room didn’t help, but the nurses and doctors...they were the real monsters, the sick fucks lying to the world and the world believing them; the world is even worst, they were the ones who trapped us in this hell; blaming our ideas and and beliefs for their problems.
The mush they called food disgusted me, almost making me gag just from the smell. The pills and medicine said they helped but...they still abused us emotional and physical. The treatments seemed more like torture to us patients who still, surprisingly, a small amount of sanity left in our bent minds. The pain of knowing that your loved ones, fearing for your mental health, trap you in this forsaken hell full of liars, abusers, and murderers brings me so much sadness.
The stench of death mixed with the smell of horrible medicine rummages through the air, making the weakest of us vomit on themselves adding to disgusting odor, making this hell more disgusting by the second.
I could never understand why people allowed the torture of innocent souls who have broken their minds due to their experiences during and after the war or simply being born with the curse of a broken mind, but then again, a long time ago, I was once one of them. Believing that this could help the insane by this barbaric form of ‘help’.
The dark corners of the room seem more inviting the the front doors of this asylum when I first arrived, my family seeking help for my tattered mind, worn down over the years of heartbreak and seeing things no human should see in his or her lifetime. Over time my eyes deceived me, thinking someone was watching me from the corners of my own home. My children worrying and fearing the most and my husband fearing if I would snap, becoming a monster and killing everything that is in sight, even to the point of hurting my own children for god’s sake.
When no one believed me, I knew; I knew that something was going to happen to me, bad or good I didn’t know, but something was going to happen. I woke up on a dirty mattress covered in one oddly yellowish sheet, strapped down. I panicked wanting to waking up from this nightmare, when the door opened to see a nun, and man in a dirty white lab coat. That’s when I realized that this wasn’t a dream, my family and the neighbors shipped me to a nuthouse! I felt betrayed, but at the same time I knew it was for the best, not for my loveless marriage,no...but for my children, my poor poor children who had to live with a crazed mother, too dazed out of her mind to understand that she was hurting them until it was too late for their senseless, psychotic mother.
I decided to write down my life in this deranged prison, wanting the world on the outside to know how it feels to be trapped within your own mind, stuck in a world where people find you useless...and maybe I am useless, but life moves on, it can’t stop for one, single poor soul, even for the soul of the most innocent child who has done nothing to harm anyone or anything. I will die here, and when I do, I hope my children do not weep for me and for my husband take care of the children with the utmost care like they are your very soul. Tell the world...it can burn in hell like the rest of us crazed lunatics....
