Sanity

Chapter One

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I am desperate, dying on the inside, happy hearted on the out, well so I thought. Yet here I am. I am not crazy, is the words I have to keep repeating to myself, in order to try keep my last bit of Sanity. Sixteen years, young yet I feel like I've walked this earth a thousand times, like the weight of the whole world is on my shoulders. My mother, what a woman! She said she was doing whats best for me by putting me in this place and by this place I mean Rehab or as others like to call it a place for the psychotic. But it isn't really for the psychotic just for the people who grew up to realise that the monsters under our bed change to the monsters in our head and can never be forgotten about, kinda like a scary story, you lie awake at night thinking of where the monster could be, when in reality it's all in your head, you think of all the possibilities, like maybe if you shut your eyes tighter, or pull the bedcovers over your head it will go away, but it doesn't as it stays in your head and you are scarred and as my older brother says "People with scars are angels in disguise, they are too frail and fragile for this fucked up world." He always gave me the best advice and told me to Stay Strong but in reality what he meant by staying strong and what I meant were two different things, his was don't harm yourself, but in all reality, I just wanted to go far away from this place I don't even call it home, this town was messed up, all refusing to step out of line. Afraid their secrets will spread. Secrets are called secrets for a reason. In this place nothing is of personal preference, you don't have freedom of speech, you can't express your views on certain topics, like the empowerment of women and feminism, or even your biggest fears, something so simple yet, it means the world. My brother left for college four years ago and I have only seen him on a few occasions since. He lives at a frat house near his college now and he never allowed me to visit as he thinks it's not the right environment for me, but really "home" wasn't the right environment for me . I just wanted to see him. My mother was never home, she expressed, on several occasions how she can't cope with me anymore and how my father should help out more in general. I ended up here because of her. I was never good enough. Never worth anybody's time. My father. I barely ever see him. When I was younger I used to go over, I was and most definitely am now, barely ever allowed near him. My mothers rules, rules I had to obey. I was deprived of a happy childhood. I was always known to my mother as the mistake, even at the age of eight I didn't feel needed or wanted. I didn't take my self hatred out on myself I took it out on a piano but that broke from playing it too much and my mother said we couldn't afford another one so I had to do what I felt necessary, to try stop what I was feeling. I never knew what I was feeling, anxiety came and with that came depression. My mother brought me up to hate myself, my body,and my mind. Beauty shines on the outside. The inside is never important, I was brought up to believe that my mother was always right and God forbid if I ever questioned or disagreed with her.

I am Maisy . Simple. Boring. Maisy. Just Maisy. I can't wait to get out of this town and where nothing comes of any good.  Everything in it is superficial. The houses. The people. They were moulded into a frame that everyone refused to break out of. Scared. I left school and simply educated myself. My mind was restricted, I wasn't allowed to put my point across. I simply couldn't strand up and express my feelings towards mental illnesses. We were thought that those who have them are crazy, selfish. I was also too quiet and shy to voice what I thought. I went to a strict Christian all girls school. The teachers were like my mother multiplied by a thousand. There's wrong and right and you can't disagree with what they say is wrong, and what is right.

I am sitting in a room with the door locked and just plain walls and a bed with the most disgusting clothes on. In here you can't express yourself or your feelings, it's like school all over. You're  only let out of this room for meals or if they feel you won't try anything stupid or inflict any harm on yourself and counciling and you can only talk during counciling or it's known as a mortal sin otherwise. We also went and prayed together for a solid three hours a day and that was the only exemption from this room. This was the most cheapest Rehab around. I am not a freak or a physco, just a person who realises they don't here. They didn't allow me to write down what I felt  and thay slowly broke me as if I wasn't already broken enough, it was like losing your last remaining pain killer when you have a huge headache and the pain is stopping you from looking for them. I could only write what I felt, I didn't like speaking how I felt, so I simply didn't. I didn't want to burden anyone with my problems, only a notebook.

It was meal time soon the time I dread as if you don't eat you get force fed and if you say your full they say you're not. I will never be better like fully better until I am dead and it's not like an illiness were you take medicine and you wake up one day and you are so much better as it's always gonna be there! I dread hearing the old lady, whom I have become to know her as Mary ring the bell that means meal time. She has faith in me more faith than I alone have in myself. She tells me everyday when she unlocks the door, "Today might not be your day but tomorrow could be if you keep trying you'll find out!"

Ding dong ding dong!

I heard the click of the lock signaling that the door had been unlocked and Mary peers her head in through the crack in the door and says her stupid quote that won't get me anywhere in life!

"Today might not be your day but tomorrow could be if you keep trying you'll  find out!"

I don't need her sympathy nor do I want it. But it was meal time now and thats when I need to build up courage! I never speak to anyone cause as they say "I keep myself to myself and I don't need to be hearing other peoples problems when I have bigger ones!" Some people in here just crave attention and are in desperate need of a reality check as life isn't all rainbows and unicorns. Some people aren't blessed with a long life but sadly, I am one of the many few that would give it up in a heart beat.

I slowly walked out of my room but it wasn't really my room it was more like a cell with painted walls, although I had never being in prison but who's gonna tell me my description is wrong! I take each step at a time with people behind me pushing and shoving as I was put on the floor with all the outgoing people, whom openly discuss their illness. I was always so jealous of how they could express themselves. Openly talk about how they feel. Openly talk about what's going on inside their heads. There are people whom really have problems and need some sort of help, if they admit it or not ,they still need it. I have too much time to think so once I start I go into a daze that is very hard to snap out of.
I missed a step and slowly, I fell forward!

I was tumbling down at a rapid pace and my head was in great pain.