For years now I’ve been stuck here with these lunatics and psychopaths without a peep about when my release is. The nurses tell me my release wish is granted when my treatment “works”, but you know that there is nothing to treat. I am normal, mundane, ordinary, sane. The last place I belong is this poor excuse of a facility they title a hospital, where white haired, asympathetic psychologists “cure the mind”. How do they cure the mind you ask? The ruthless nurses strap you to a bed and inject you with thick medicine that transforms you into a zombie. The doctors shock your brain with electricity which only fries your memories of eating ice cream on the playground as a kid. The psychologists act as if they care about your feelings in this hellhole, but instead are looking for key concepts that you are, in fact, “cured” so they can receive an award for their “success”. The patients, the lovely patients, act as if they should be working a lemonade stand or teaching children how to read. In reality, most of the patients would not even turn their heads when a child cannot read, some may with other sickening intent, some are too medicated or downright crazy to read themselves.

As much as I hate to say it, some patients are actually pretty amusing. The ones I associate with are not as crazy as the others, Schizo Samantha, or Crazy Carl. Schizo Samantha, a schizophrenic, also known as the reason we cannot have forks or knives at dinner. She is still unpredictable on her medications; for example, she threw a fork into a guard’s shoulder because he was supposedly a robot from her old hometown who is trying to kidnap her. Yelling at nothing in corners, impulsive violence, and screaming are daily because of her. The nurses have a designated straight-jacket for Samantha since she is nearly skin and bones. The straight-jacket is for a dummy in their training classes at the university, but it fits Samantha like a chained up glove. Now Crazy Carl is actually a decent man, when he is Carl. You see, Carl has Dissociative Identity Disorder. Carl, his true being, is a family man who used to volunteer at his local church and worked as an accountant. Spence, his alter ego, is a want-to-be Hannibal Lecter. Do I need to explain anymore of Crazy Carl or is the picture clear? Now back to my friends, there is Karen, Jason, and Izzie. Karen, a sociopath, wears her diagnosis proudly and without any shame or remorse- shocking, I know, a sociopath with no remorse. She is the queen of this institution. Ironically, Karen’s name stands for purity, she is far from it. With her hair dark as pen ink, blue eyes that pierce through your soul like an arrow, pale skin the sun fails to kiss, and the body of an hourglass, it is no wonder why everyone calls her Black Beauty. Karen’s reason on why she resides here runs around like a little schoolgirl rumor. She has grown up here, the nurses practically raised her. At the age of nine, Karen attended Gordon Elementary where she was nicknamed Lucifer. One day, she lashed out and stabbed her classmate in the neck with a pencil. Luckily, the girl was rushed off to the emergency room and received life-saving treatment. When the police arrived, they asked Karen why she would commit such a crime and she gave them her answer in a care-free, unbothered tone. She claimed the girl was breathing too loudly, but did not stop there. Karen reported to the police she wished she had actually killed the girl and how the blood was fascinating to watch. After a trial, the judge ordered Karen to live at the hospital until she was eighteen. Yesterday, she turned seventeen. If you look past Karen’s violent past, she’s a really entertaining person. Now, she takes antipsychotics to be more docile. She loves to play poker since she wins every time. In reality, we all fold and pretend we have terrible cards so she will win, no one dares to cause a sociopath to lose, not even Schizo Samantha. Along with Karen, there is my best friend Jason. Jason is not crazy, whatsoever.  His disgusting excuse of a father threw him in here after seeing Jason holding hands with another guy. The nurses believe his father, homosexuality is in illness in their heads. Maybe, they are the crazy ones. Jason is relatively attractive with emerald green eyes and curly brown hair, but he only stands about 5’7”. Sadly, Jason is not Jason anymore though. Because of his sexuality, he goes through EST, electric shock therapy, once a week to “erase away his sickness”, when it is actually just zapping away my best friend. He still loves to read, Jason always has a book with him, especially his favorite book The Great Gatsby. Finally, there is Izzie. Izzie is, indeed, crazy. Bipolar I consumes the poor girl. She, in our terms, is nuts. Izzie despises her medications and states that they are poisoning her brain and limiting her.  Izzie is of Native American descent and claims she is Pocahontas. During her manic episodes, she only answers to Pocahontas and claims that Izzie is asleep. Her manic episodes are followed by huge depressive episodes where she is bedridden and given her nutrients she should consume in food through an IV. Even though she is crazy, Izzie does not contain a mean bone in her body, contrary to Karen.

Now, if you do not mind, I am making my way to the lounge to play some poker. As you know, I always win.

Until next time diary,

           Lucifer