I run out of the mental institution, dazed. I keep going and going, tripping over my own two feet. It felt like a race; me versus time. But time was catching up, and so were the nurses.

I feel the sweat dripping from my head, down my back all the way to my tailbone. My speed was impressive, especially after the months and months of pills being shoved down my throat.

 

Oh no, she ran away. Oh, poor patient. She will only hurt herself. I feel so bad for her.

 

I was always scared that the pills would change me, make me a different person, but I guess that that was the point.

I am scared, beyond that, but I know that I had to leave. After witnessing the reality of these institutions, after seeing time and time how the fine form of man was degraded and wasted, it was only right to run. To run so far that there would be zero records of me in point B and all would be erased and forgotten in point A.

It would even be better if I was declared dead.

For me to be only a distant memory, I already am. My son was the one that put me there. I did nothing but care for him, yes there were some problems, but not as severe as everyone makes them out to be. And I would say something, I would tell them the truth, but no one wants to hear it. The truth is disguised by the sterile, alcohol smell of the hospital.

 

Her son actually brought her here, he’s so nice. It’s obvious how much he actually cares for her. She’s so lucky. He’s actually really attractive.

 

I was convinced over and over that I’m different, that I am crazy and need help. I listened, not because I wanted to, but because I was forced to. I was pinned by the straps to the bed while they were over me. Multiple penetrating voices straddling me, pinning me down. I writhed under their words, yet dared not to exhibit the pain that I felt.

They would tell me everything will be fine if I only took the pills. I believed it over and over. Maybe it would numb the pain, change the chemicals inside my brain?

The nurses were close. They were calling for me. Sweet voices. Sweet voices that disguised the Aripiprazole, Lurasidone, and so many more drugs that names cannot even be pronounced. They would kill emotions with science placing patients in a trance and watched with a smile as they banged their heads against the walls.

 

Poor, poor patients. Oh, I feel so bad for them. I wonder what it’s like to be crazy, whoops, wouldn’t want to jinx it.

 

The only problem the people had was not the illness, but the remedies the doctors and scientists proved would help. Was this only a quick fix or would it actually fix it, because so far, I’m far. To the average person I am mad, I am a nut that should only be isolated … away.

I don’t know where to go because nowhere feels like home. My happiness was long gone and the only thing that kept me semi-sane was the Citalopram.

I can’t go to my son, he will send me right back in a heartbeat saying I’m insane. Mentally deranged.

 

When we catch her, we’re going to have to keep her under higher surveillance. She is a danger to herself and everyone else. I think we need to separate her from everyone else for a bit. For her own good.

 

They’re so close, I can hear their breathing as if they were right by my ear. I didn’t dare to make a sound for if I did, it would be over. I slid in the bushes and distracted myself with memories. Memories that I have still preserved after the months of therapy telling me to throw them away.

 

Sh.

They’re near.

They’re so close.

They’re going to take me

away.

Don’t make a sound

or else they’ll find me.

 

Yes, don’t worry, everything’s under control. She’s with us. Where? Oh, just in her room. Don’t worry sir, your mother is okay. Now, about that date.

 

 

–

 

 

 

Aripiprazole – medication that works in the brain to treat schizophrenia.

Lurasidone – antipsychotic medication used to treat schizophrenia and bipolar disorder.

Citalopram – medication used to treat depression.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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