Just Like John

It was my first day at Brookfield Asylum. I found it sort of weird that I started the day after there was a death. I had never worked in an asylum before, so I didn’t know what to expect. The death was a guy in his 30’s, apparently a suicide. I knew there had to be something more than him just not wanting to be here. Sure I heard rumors about how he was never nice to the other orderlies, but I still wanted to know what was going on inside a person that would drive them to do such a thing. I walked into his room to find them stripping the bed. The mattress moved and I saw what looked like a book. When everyone left the room, I grabbed it. On my break, I decided to give it a read. I opened the leather cover to the very first page which read:

“Tuesday, December 11th, 2006.

This journal will record the things that happen while I’m at the place; the place that they’re sending me because I can hear people in my mind. My name is John Matthew Andrews. I’m 32 years old, born on the 19th day of the 9th month of the year 1974, and I’m from Akron, Ohio. I have no wife or kids. I don’t have much family left. I don’t remember when I started hearing the people, but they’ve been here for a long time. Lately, they’ve been getting loud and I can’t ignore them anymore. I don’t know why they decided that now was a good time to get loud, but I guess they know what they’re doing.

Wednesday, December 12th, 2006.

Today is my first full day at The Place. The people in my mind aren’t happy I’m here. They don’t like it here, but I don’t know what to think of it. The walls remind me of the shells of the eggs I used to get from the chickens every morning. They even have cracks. The floors aren’t very much different. They’re shiny tiles like you would see in a hospital, or a school. On the walls of my room are different paintings that my roommate has done. I like his work. Mostly they’re just nature scenes, but I can tell that there are hidden things in them even though he tells me they’re just nature scenes. My roommate’s name is Dave. I don’t know his last name. Dave’s 25, he says he’s here because he tried to kill himself last week. He told me that there are people in his mind, too. They told him to kill himself and so he did – or, he tried to. I like Dave. I wonder what he thinks of me…

Friday, December 14th, 2006.

I didn’t get to write yesterday. I’m sorry about that. I meant to, I really did, but we had an activity. I got to see the outside. The Place has a garden. I like it a lot, it smells like home. I miss home, although, I don’t know why I would...There’s nothing to miss. The people in my mind keep saying that I should try to escape. I don’t want to escape, I feel safe here for some reason. “

There was a voice calling my name, so I stood and peered around the corner of where I was sitting. It was the guard asking me where I had been. Everyone was searching for me. I said I went on break, like I was supposed to. He told me it had been an hour. I scrambled to mark my page in the journal before he saw.

“Until next time, my friend,” I whispered to myself.

My next break wasn’t for another four hours. I got right back to reading this journal. It was telling me a lot about who he was.

“Monday, December 17th, 2006.

It’s been a few days since I got to write. I’m sorry again. The past few days the people in my mind have told me I can’t write to you. Maybe you need a name, journal. What should I name you? What is your name? Are you a boy journal or a girl journal? I’m asking you all these questions as if you’ll answer. I guess I should expect myself to do so since I talk to the people in my mind. I hate it when “they” tell me not to. I can’t help it. I always tell the people to go away, but they never do. I have to go now, Journal. I’ll write more tomorrow, I promise.