Lost In The Mind of Me

Part title

Written at the hospital.

It is November 5, 2015. I am in the "psychiatric ward" of a hospital in Denver. I haven't really wrote like this in a while, but maybe this will help me now.

    Let's start on April 19, 2015, and see what the Hell I was thinking.

    They didn't find me until a few hours after I booked it.

    Why did I run?

    Honestly, I was being stupid. A few weeks prior, I was caught "sexting." I don't like to call it that because there were no pictures or videos or what not, but I did.

    I cheated on Silvester.

    There I can't take it back, and I can't say I'm sorry.

    That day, I pretended I was doing homework, and created a second facebook account; the first one was "taken away" by mom. So, in order to talk to my friends, and, well, yeah, I created a new one. And I was caught.

    Danny found it, deactivated it, and went to the store.

    I wrote a very stupid, not thought out, harsh letter, put it on the counter, and left.

    I didn't know where I was going. I didn't care. I can't honestly say what was going through my head. After about an hour, I decided I was going to look for Levi. They would have never found me there. I had a vague idea of where he lived. I just didn't know where the fuck I was.

    I was going down a street called Lowell. Then I heard him. And I ran. Hard. He chased me, so I jumped over the fence, and ran to the nearest person screaming, "help, he beats me."

    I am deeply ashamed of it. Why did I do that?

    I have finally figured that out. At first, after the event, I thought it was because I knew I'd get my ass kicked when I got home. But the past few months I have scrounged my mind for the real answer, and that answer is this. Austin. That entire day, it was like my mind thought I was running from Austin, hiding from him. Trying to find the safety I hadn't found when I was 6.

The cops were called. Mom showed up. Put me in the car. Called my dad. Explained what had happened, and handed me the phone. I talked to him all the way to the house. Mom grabbed my medicine, put it in a backpack, and drove to the hospital.

It was different than the one I am at now. There, I spilled everything.

I was diagnosed with PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, and Borderline Personality Disorder.

Dad came up from New Mexico to see me. Then, he explained that he was absent from my life a lot so that I wouldn't have issues like him. He finally realized that that had backfired. A lot.

I left with a feeling of discovery. I was happy.

Was.

When I got back to school, everyone kept asking what happened between Silvester and I. I was confused and scared.

He told me it was because of Danny. I lost it. I walked away, had a panic attack, wheeled around, and put a hole in the dry wall.

Later that day, I was explaining to Satan (Nick) and everyone what had happened.

Then I realized that that was bullshit. So, I went looking for him. And asked what happened.

He finally told me that he had found out about my cheating, and that while I was in hospital, he hooked up with another girl.

I was so angry at myself, that I punched the brick wall and broke my hand. Communated fractures to the 3rd and 4th metacarpals, and greenstick fractures galore. I felt I deserved that torture for what I did. I had denied it immediately, but I finally told him. He was upset, but glad I told the truth.

He is still my friend, and for that, I am thankful.