June 26, 2009

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic

They call it a mental rehab center but i call it a crazy house. Druggies, emo kids, ppl just like me. I felt right at home. So why do they call it a crazy house? I was there for 3 days. this is Day one

I think it was the same day that Michael Jackson died. We had gone golfing and I felt like a flaming piece of dog crap. But they didn't understand. I wanted to die. I had for about two years. I tried to blast music. I tried to shut them out. Fuck tha world I said. But it didn't work. They saw through me. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I broke down. I told them I wanted to die. I told them I’d slit my wrists. I told them I had tried to kill myself. They prayed (I’m still not sure I believe in that stuff). I told them I wanted to die and they took me to a hospital. Hours of waiting. NEWSFLASH FARRAH FOSSIT IS DEAD. More waiting. NEWSFLASH: THE KING OF POP IS DEAD. The world cried. NEWSFLSH: BOY KILLS HIMSELF IN HOSPITAL. The world gets teary eyed. NEWSFLASH: BLACK TEENAGER DIES IN HOSPITAL BY HIS OWN HAND. The world shrugs.

They all asked me the same questions. Social worker after social worker.

How long have you felt like this? Since the time i ran away from home.

Why'd you run away? I felt like sh =dads in the room=....crap.

You ever hurt yourself? Yup

How? Knife

Ever attempt suicide? Yup

How? =how the hell do u think= Knife to my throat

Why didn't you do it? =what did u want me to die? = Just couldn't

That went on for hours. They did blood tests. I was fortunate enough to get the new guy who hit me vein wall and made me lose consciousness. Eventually they told me I’d be admitted. All i could think about was Mackenzie. They had an ambulance take me there. It seemed like a long ride, i was zoning in and out of a sleep like state. I remember playing various songs in my head to keep me calm. I was going to be without my music for three days. Damn, reality just set in.

Same questions at the center. They ran me with a metal detector. Took my gum. They asked me more questions.

Are you sexually active? =i wish= No.

Sexual orientation? =Mackenzie i miss you= dude, I’m straight =what did that have to do with my depression=

I remember a boy with long hair, blondish, saying he felt horrible. I remember another saying the bed felt horrible and it was too hot. He slept on the floor. They told me that they normally wake up at 8am but i could sleep until 12 if i wanted. It was 4am and i didn't think I’d sleep. I whispered "Good night, Mackenzie" in hopes that some shred of faith would deliver my message.

I woke up at 8 completely refreshed. Less than 4 hours and i was fine. Didn't need any more sleep. I still don't. I walked out to two new faces. John, the one that slept on the floor, and Mr. Kelly, a counselor. I spoke to John first.

What are you in for? =was it a dream? No it wasn't= Suicidal thoughts and tendencies. You?


He was taller than me. The oldest of the kids I’d meet. Wore a Beatles shirt, i remember. Brown hair in his face, caveman. Mr. Kelly spoke next.

You can go ahead and take a shower, and then we'll have breakfast for you. =i wanna go home= Ok.

Bathroom was 3x5. Wasn't expecting anymore. Wasn't expecting the greatest breakfast. Eggs, cereal, pork. My parents didn't allow me to eat pork. But they weren't there and i still gave it to Alex. He was the one who couldn't sleep, with the long hair. If i was anyone else i would call him crazy. I'd write him off as an emo druggie. But i was the emo druggie. We all were. He was just more honest and extroverted. I held it in.

The third was Monte. He was in the room besides mine, sharing a bathroom with me. Not at the same time though. Then we had some free time. They taught me to play rummy, a skill i have now forgotten. Then a woman came in, for the life of me i can't remember her name. I want to because we played a group game. It was called Would Ya Rather. Then in more free time, i was called in to talk to her. We talked for maybe a half hour. Maybe 50 questions she asked me. I remember telling her about how i almost failed English. How i hated church. How i was laid back but didn't really control anger well. How sometimes i was laid back, sometimes wild and in your face, others depressed, emotive and angry, usually for no particular reason. I asked her if she liked what she did. She was just as open and honest as she allowed me to be.

I came back at lunch and there was a girl there, Abby. She looked 16 but i think she was only 13. I did what i didn't want to do but it was part of my nature, every guy’s nature, i flirted. I was obvious as crap and i didn't care. I needed female contact, she was all i had. But Mackenzie never left my mind. We went to the pool. It was freezing cold. I still couldn’t swim. Splashing contests ensued.

What the hell?? Am i having fun??

Out of the pool back to the big room. I remember we couldn't wear shoes there. We were on precautions. At least me Alex and John were. Sometimes for groups they brought in the younger kids. None of them were so great except for the cutest girl in the world, Chassmine. She was like my little sister. I made funny faces at her and just talked to her. I made her laugh. I love making people laugh. There was this other little white girl, whose name escapes me. She was obnoxious as hell. I wanted to smack her, but that wouldn't be smart considering where i was. After awhile i got looser around them. They were...my friends.

Monte and the rest of us were watching TV.

O my god ya’ll Michael Jackson is dead! We know

O my god ya’ll Michael Jackson is dead!

O my god ya’ll Michael Jackson is dead!

O my god ya’ll Michael Jackson is dead! =maybe if we ignore him he'll shut up=

He didn't. I tuned him out as the rest of us played Uno. Nothing else about that day phases my mind. Except this Asian lady who was surprised i was sad without my girlfriend. Mackenzie would be getting home that night and texting me and i wouldn't be there to answer. I had to call me parents that night, the counselors made me. We didn't talk about anything particularly exciting. I didn't want to talk to them. They were the reason i was there. They drove me to this. They put me there. At this point in time, i hated them. Vague answers on the phone, lowered demeanor, depression touched me just a little before i figure out i had an 8pm bedtime. Who the hell sleeps for 12 hours?

I lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling. Cry? Why not? I let a little bit out on that hard, cold bed. Mackenzie i love you. Mackenzie i miss you. Good night baby sweet dreams. Hope floated on the prayer that I wished would reach her.


End of Day 1

Submitted: October 21, 2009

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