I remember waking up and feeling like I had been rung out like a wet wash cloth. My ears were ringing and I could hear yelling from outside my door. That door with bars embedded into the glass… I couldn’t remember how I got there, but I knew where I was. I had been in the same mental hospital once before, when I was 16. I got up out of the stiff, cold cot and walked to the bathroom. I thought my bladder was going to rupture I had to pee so badly. Considering I hadn’t voluntarily drank anything in days, I’m assuming they pumped me pull of fluids at some point. Standing up I thought, “wow, my head hurts.”
When I looked in the mirror and saw the walking dead, I figured this was the ‘coming down’ headache, and I would feel better soon after I ate something. I was hungry, which was new. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt hunger. I opened the 5 inch thick, metal painted to look like wood door, and wandered into a gray hallway. Because they couldn’t come up with a better paint color for the walls of the looney bin? ok. I was starting to get some feeling back in my feet, when I was hit by a wall.. Not a gray hospital wall, a mental wall. “where am I?’
“they must have changed this around a lot in 2 years.”
I passed by the lounge and asked the big guy what time it was and what we were supposed to be doing. He looked through me with empty eyes and I noticed the bracelet he wore. It was the same as mine. He wasn’t a caregiver, he was a patient. only then did I actually look around to see that I was surrounded by zombies, bigger than I am. It hit me. I was not in the same place as I had ben 2 years ago. There were no paintings on the walls. There were no balls or hoola hoops in the corner. The TV was not on wheels, but behind bulletproof glass. It hit me that I had just turned 18 and I was somewhere new.. The adult psychotic ward.