An Attempt Was Made

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No one here is happy. Most of us were unhappy even when we weren't quarantined like this, but hope makes people assume only the bright side of things; like "Things will only get better from here" or "Onwards and upwards!" But hope makes us blind to the myriad of possibilities of life and things getting worse.
Hope is dangerous, destructive, and will often make you want more even when you have plenty.
This is why when everything you did have in possession is thrown away, part of that realization strikes people, as reality hits them in the face with a chair.
The next thing you know, the only thought, other than elevator music, in almost every patient's head is, "I want to get out of here."
I was like that too, at first. But within the first week, I made myself comfy. Just as Oliver Sykes said, "Even hell can get comfortable once you've settled in." Besides, a guy can get used to anything.


As it turns out, I had been correct from the start, my roommate was 1.5 years younger than me. But because, for reasons unknown, his presence had felt uncomfortable to me, I had left my cabin, not knowing that a patient can't change cabins at will.


The genuine smile that my parents saw the other day on CCTV- I have a hunch that no other parent/guardian of no other patient had been lucky enough to witness something so reassuring. But what my parents did NOT know is the truth behind that smile.
Yes, it was genuine, but it was induced by a substance. Benzodiazepines. Yes, I had managed to keep six tablets of clonazepam with me, inside a Rehab. The same substance that brought me here in the first place. How could I possibly tell my family that I love a drug?