Yes, yes, I'm back. I knooowwww, look at the clock. Not my fault I'm still awake at 4:20 in the morning. No, it's NOT to smoke, bitches.
If you are easily insulted, go elsewhere. If not....read this, lol. Well, this is a little something I wrote for creative writing. It's life in the perspective of a mental patient. Ahh, yes, and a happy early Halloween to you all.
They're poisoning me...those nurses with their slender, smooth legs, and their needles and pills. The devil hides under their dresses. They are filthy. Everything is filthy. Reluctantly, every day, I take the little white cup from their hand with the same three little pills in it. White, blue, and pink...or are they red? I can't tell anymore. I only take them because I don't want the doctors to take my mind. Benny refused to take his pills four months ago, and he has never been the same. Something happened to him, something horrible. He was gone for such a long time, and when he returned, he couldn't speak. He hasn't spoken a word since.
I swallow the pills with no water. I refuse to drink water. I refuse to eat food. I need to keep my body as pure as possible. I lost both of my parents to cancer, and I can't take any risks. I can't let food sit inside my stomach and turn into tumors. I'm sure that is how people get sick and die. I'm sure of that, I really am.
I don't know how much longer they are going to keep me in here. I'm sure I'll be in here for many years after I'm dead. Benny told me that they'll never bury me next to my parents.
"They'll leave your body to rot, and the doctors will come in and jack off on your corpse," he would say. "The nurses will smash in your brains with their heeled shoes, and there will be nothing left of who you once were."
I don't want to be filthy. I can't stand it in here any longer. The door bleeds, and my bed smells like vomit. I tell nurse Sheryl about the stench every day. "Looks clean to me, Eddy," the nurse with the short, flaming red hair tells me in a soft, comforting voice as she tried to make me eat apple sauce. Why is she lying to me? All the women in my life lie! My wife was a liar, my high school sweetheart was a liar, and so was my mother. They can't be trusted. Never.
Benny was most of what I had left of a companion. He knew what they were up to. His voice was deep and husky. It's been so long since he's spoken, I've started forgetting what he used to sound like. He still sits next to me in the television room and we still play basketball during exercise time. His eyes have changed so much. They look so empty and black. They used to be the most beautiful shade of blue. Like a calm ocean. I feel like I've lost him. I think he's going crazy.
