Hazardous

Crazy. Psycho. Insane.

That's what they call me. These are the names I hear as I’m being dragged from my apartment, and looking back now... I can understand why.

 I’m screaming at the top of my lungs, my hair is matted to my face, my body unwashed. I've worn the same clothes for three days, and there are bruises evident on my body. The strangled words coming from my mouth are garbled and nonsensical. I look like I've lost it.

And I started to believe I had. I saw things that couldn't be there, talked to things that would disappear moments after, right before my eyes. I blacked out often; not remembering what happened in my lost hours but too scared to find out. I was deteriorating; my mind and body were losing it.

Then they took me to a hospital, a hospital for crazy people.