Flesh bangs against grimy grey walls, blood splatters on the brick and onto grimy grey floors. On a grimy grey ceiling a light blinks on off; on off, but that goes unnoticed for now.
Orderlies rush into the room, like how the sedative their holding will soon rush into your veins releasing you of all your frustrations. You watch intently as they hold you down and push the needle into your arm. There is no compassion in their eyes, just a faint annoyance as well as a small glint of sympathy that means nothing, so they leave.
The liquid feels warm as it slithers like a snake through your system, you can almost see it run up your arm and through the rest of you.
It is your salvation.
Your eyes start to faze in and out, the blinking light above you holds your attention until you no longer care about it, you forget about it, you no longer need its companionship. You no longer want to stay awake at night a stare at it like it’s your ticket to freedom. It no longer talks to you in its own unique way. You no longer scream and shout to get it out of your head; the constant blinking made you too frustrated to deal. The light knows how to get into your mind, how to unravel it more and more until you can’t take it! All of this because you couldn’t sleep!
Doctors, nurses, orderlies, they don’t listen to you, you ask for more drugs to help you sleep, but they just shake their head and turn away from you. To get them to listen you have to speak a whole new language to make them give you what you want, no, what you need! Without the drugs you can’t sleep, it makes you paranoid, jumpy, delusional, your mind is so overtired that is soon becomes overactive. You can’t, not concentrate on every little thing so you break down; piece by piece.
So you bang on the walls, drawing blood from battered flesh, the pain is unbearable but no pain no gain right? You then scream at the top of your lungs, because these no other way to get them to listen. You tell yourself that it’s the only way.
It makes them think your crazy, and overtime you start believing it yourself, and then you come to ask yourself whether or not you’ve always been crazy?