Hospital

I’m back. Christ, I was gone for almost two months. Not that anybody gives a shit, of course. I had to go through therapy of all things because of what I saw that day. While I was crying I blabbed about my blog and they took a peek at it. That alone probably added an entire month to my stay, if I’m being honest. There’s more in my brain to pull apart than pulled pork. Redundant. Whatever. But they told me that I had severe paranoia probably caused by my father. I told them I didn’t want to fucking hear it because he’s the one who taught me to be a man. They seemed to shut up after that. I have no way of knowing if they actually understood or not. I don’t give a shit.

I met a girl in the hospital. We weren’t allowed to trade numbers or E-Mail addresses which I think is sort of really stupid. She was really skinny and shrewd with these piercing blue eyes. We talked a lot and apparently she’s been in the hospital for way longer than I have and will stay there for the foreseeable future. And that sucks ass. I genuinely think she’s the person I’ve connected with most. Even more than Johnny or Tyler.

Even more than Sandra. I can’t really remember her name, though. I swear I asked her about it.

By the way, she also said something that confused me. She asked me if I had thought of being somebody else. I said that “i didn’t of course. this is all I’m getting and thinking too hard about it just depresses me”. She just laughed and said that I better start thinking harder about the subject.

I said “what the fuck do you mean”? She said that “You haven’t finished growing and changing. From what you’ve told me, you’ve changed a lot in the past year or so. But you’ll keep growing and changing, be it for better or for worse.”

“you sound like the nurses. you’ve been in here too long.”

”That doesn’t really matter. They know what they’re talking about.” pauses and then says that “You don’t want to get better, do you?”

That fucking hurt in the moment, but honestly the more that I thought about it it makes way more sense. She fucking read me like a book. Would you consider this a book, actually? I guess it could be. It’s kind of vague, isn’t it? Pedentry aside, I think I was scared of getting better. Something like “if I’m not how I am right now, who will I be”? Yeah, something like that. I guess what I’m trying to say is that the whole situation doesn’t really feel real. The people in the hospital made me hold this vibrating thing and made me recount what happened on the 13th. Apparently it’s supposed to help stuff from becoming trauma? I guess it worked because even as much as the memory hurts like hell, it doesn’t make me start shaking like it did before. And also I’m on meds. I don’t really want to take them. But I guess I can’t keep getting worse.

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