Feel Real

Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Week six in a mental hospital and I’ve never been happier in my life. I have my best friend at my side and my boyfriend. I’ve learned life isn’t perfect; and I know it never will be either. But that’s okay. You have to make the best of what you have. Look in the positive in life. Work hard for what you believe you deserve. And each person deserves happiness. Some just don’t work hard for it. Happiness is earned, not given. It’s hard to earn but it is so worth it.

                Talking to people about their future is my favorite thing because I believe there is no greater human emotion than passion. Speaking to someone about what they’re passionate about is memorizing. You can feel there want in every word and their drive in their eyes. That’s why I love being a teenager. Literally anything is possible and we can do whatever we want. Talk to an adult about the future and they talk to you about maybe getting a car. Talk to a teen about the future…they tell you what disease they’ll cure or what physiological theory they’ll create.

                Passion is what keeps a person going. Because without a purpose there is no meaning to life.

                “I want to marry a writer,” Sammy told me as we sat in her room. Daniel was off helping people; not being with him was kind of nice. We’re always together, which I love, but separation builds a relationship. And Sammy and I need a good girl talk.

                “So you two can collaborate? Ask for each other’s thoughts on ideas? Oh! You two can have a joined den, each with your own desk. And you can have late night writing sessions. Okay, I am marrying a writer too even though I am not one.”

                “Maybe you are one, you never know till you try.”

                “I love your optimism, hun, but I am no writer. I don’t share emotions well.”

                “You used to be bad at sharing emotions. Last time I checked the story is different now.” Sammy smiled at me.

                “Yeah I guess…I just don’t have passion for it. You do though. I envy that though, your passion and ability to write beautifully.”

                “A broken mind creates beautiful words. But, a husband writer would be the best. No bias, writers are the best. Just the deep thoughts that are created out of these minds. Worlds that only exists in one human’s mind. Ideas and concepts unheard of that are just magically put in a person’s mind. Writing explains human thought. It shows what humans ultimately desire: love. It shows what humans hate: conflict, and not reaching this love. It expresses the deepest human thoughts that no one talks about but everyone has: suicidal thoughts, depression, and the dark spirit that persuades us to stop. It expresses the passion and hope of mankind: overcoming these dark days, striving for what we believe we deserve, and above all, the overpowering human nature of wanting to be better and to help others.”

                “What inspires your books?” I asked her, completely intrigued by her thoughts. I could feel the passion rolling off her skin with every word she spoke. Talking about the future makes me happy.

                “Anything. This place mostly. The never ending hell that is my life. The cage I’m stuck in known as my mind. The demon that whispers to me, the one who put me in here. But also the angel who tells me to keep going, who for some reason makes me think I might be okay. Just life,” she said, smiling.

                “That’s great. When you get out of here and become famous I will be able to say I knew her, she’s the reason I got out of that hell hole.”