October 22
Yesterday, two nurses dragged be back to that horrid doctor. He poked me and prodded me and when no one else was in the room, he began to slap me across the face. I was screaming and crying, but screaming seems like a regular occurence here, so, of course, no one took any notice. They just thought I was another one of the crazies.
He injected something into my arm, and it hurt like Hell. I hope it does more good than harm, but when you're stuck here, you are most likely overly optimistic.
I can't stand this place. It smells like death and urine and unwashed bodies. It's never silent; there are always always the sound of screams from both the patients and the nurses. The food it disgusting. First of all, you have no clue what is in it. Second, we have no utensils or plates or napkins. They dump it on the table and expect us to paw through it like the starving wild animals they force us to be.
I almost want to say I want to go home, but that's almost even more frightening.
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Well, Half this Stuff is Fake, Cos Why Would I Tell the Truth to You?
Well, seeing that my life is pretty boring, I guess I'll write a story in here, for your personal enjoyment. Enjoy.
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Skeletons of the Mind
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