Clutter.

Veronica

I don't need to be here,
Theses people have nothing in common with me? I shouldn't be here.
"Veronica?" mother says "come here they're showing us your room"
This is it.
I'm considered insane because of what?
All I've done was what felt right. I held the gun and shot it. I didn't die of course, I'm here.
Mother acted as if she cared.
I know she doesn't, because I'm a lesbian? Or just because I'm wasting her and fathers money. I'm not the golden child they expected.
Mother was probably disappointed, when the nurses said I'd live. That's ok.
I was disappointed too.

I unpack
My bags stuffing things into my crooked dresser.
It wobbles as doing so, as if the crazy patients have rubbed off on this poor furniture.
My rooms cold. Not the temperature but the feeling it gives,
Death.
I don't like it, the walls are a plain grey.
There's one window but the glass goes out ward, bars protecting me from reaching to the glass. The floor is a cold cement and my bed isn't even a bed, Just two mattresses stacked.
I guess some looney tried to kick the bucket using a bed post.

"Remember I love you Veronica!"
She's trying to hard.
Her fake smile seems as if I may be cracking the Botox in her face.
I just smile back and say
I'll remember.

Today I get to go right to bed.
I get my meds and its off to dream land for me.