Day after day, just sitting here, talking to the same people over and over. Naturally there is a very limited amount of conversation. Nothing gets beyond, “So what you been doing today?” As well, we’ve all done the same thing, when it comes to that business. All the interesting stuff that may have happened, we all have discussed, and everyone knows about. So it’s back to the old routine.
I’m bored of life and I’m bored of pretending that I’m enjoying it, well to the nurses and doctors. I have nothing left to enjoy. What is enjoyment? There, you see I’m so worn down I’m actually asking you the meaning to enjoyment! That’s beyond sad.
I remember my first day here, I don’t think I have ever been so confused in all my life, I simply didn’t understand what they wanted from me. The looks. They all give looks in this place, it’s a place for a mad person, but they just say it all. It’s exactly what they think of me, they just don’t understand. They act as if they know what they’re thinking, but they know nothing. They never will.
Susan, she was the nurse that first spoke to me, an old fashioned lady with polite manners. Yet I’m sure there was something strangely familiar about her really, she spoke to me as my mother did when I was a young child. I’m not going back there again. She hopped me up to my bed and told me to take the medication she handed over and be as quiet as possible as everyone was trying to sleep. It was only 4pm! I personally wondered if it was meant to be her getting into this bed and taking these tablets after such a statement! She obviously had a lot of practice reading patients minds as she looked amused and smiled.
“It’ll be ok. Definitely will take time to settle down and get used to the little things, as well as the big changes”
I just looked away for a brief moment.
“I don’t think I will ever belong here, or get used to it, and most of all, I really don’t want to get used to it”
She tucked one side in; as she looked up I tried my best to give her a hard look. She understood that instantly and left with a quick smile.
One of the biggest problems with being here was that, everyone actually knew who I was. Obviously, I was noticeable.
On the first day everyone was looking. Everyone. It was extremely irritating. I wanted to scream and tell them I shouldn’t be here. Yes I believed that since the moment they dragged me in here. I didn’t, and never spoke my thoughts, I simply sat in my bed like an over-grown child in a sulk. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be at home in my study, drowning under many scrap pieces of paper. There was no way I was going to get that, in any hurry. I hated my situation. I liked being alone, left well alone where I can concentrate on what mattered to me. I think I’m a fairly selfish person, wanting to hide from the world. Never quite understood why, yet I completely know why. My imagination works best when it’s quiet. It’s the quietest place in the world in my cottage. Ah, my perfect cottage, the one I once shared.
When you’re alone, especially in a place like this, you have time to think about different things. You wonder what everyone else is going through and how they are feeling different to you, well apart from the fact of feeling as if you’re mad. Also, this is probably the major factor to our difference in matter!
Looking across the room is a younger man than me. He has a full head of hair; this was a dark auburn colour, also with the most palest of skin, yet interesting features. I really wondered what he had been through. He looks at me sometimes. Not just quick glance, but looks for a long time, as if he knows me. Well it wouldn’t be that surprising if he looked at me liked that, only this look was deeper, stronger, as if he really knew me. As if we’ve already met. He made me interested in what his story was.
Susan came back into the room and I tried to grab her attention, but she was too busy to recognise me until suddenly I managed to whisper “Nurse!”
She quickly swirled around and her expression was clearly annoyed. I automatically regretted calling her over as she quick marched over to the end of my bed.
“Yes, Mr Sullivan?” In a cross whisper, what got her so annoyed? I wondered.
“I was wondering if it would be possible to request some paper, or empty book of some kind.” I tried to smile, just to ease up the tension.
She instantly looked as though she has relaxed,
“Are you going to start writing again? I thought you weren’t meant to seeing as...” She lost her trail, I knew why. She didn’t want to sound disrespectful by saying in truth “..seeing as you’re completely mad and been put in here, simply because you are weird, because you have some bizarre claims, its healthier if you don’t write ever again, you complete utter weirdo!”
“Well I and Dr Avery had discussed for me to do something of writing my story of my time here, and life.” Are the words that stumbled out without permission
“Oh, right. Well obviously I’ll need to check with Dr Avery myself – not saying that you’re lying!” Stating the last bit in an instant hurry.
“Really, that’s fine Susan, you’ll fine that we’ve cleared the matter up and is allowed”
Susan flushed under the embarrassment and whipped out of the ward. I listened to her footsteps fade down the corridor, before I sighed and rolled over.
Thoughts started twirling around in my mind, demanding answers to questions I hardly understood. What..where, how do I start..? The beginning? Go Backwards? The place.. I originally wanted to start..? That night? The time we spoke? Dr Averys acceptance? My mother?.. I can’t answer my own questions! I’m utterly ridiculous! How am I going to start writing if I have no idea how to write anymore? Call myself a writer! I’m disgraceful! I belong here, amongst nutters if I can’t even think straight! Max Sullivan; we need to sort you out!
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