Unbalanced Minds

Iridescence

When you find yourself in darkness, with just the thoughts your mind invents, is  it scarier to have them at all, or that they're making sense?

- e.h //

A nurse wakes me to take my vitals when I go up to receive my evening medication. She changes the dressing on my arm. The phone on the desk rings, the nurse says something and looks at me. "You have a phone call," I nod. I hear the hall phones begin to ring: Signaling that she's sent the call through. I thank her, turn and make my way down the hall and pick up the receiver silently.

"Wilona?"

I don't respond. I study the phone cord. Wrapping it around my index finger. The phone resembles that of a pay phone.

"Wilona, I know you're there -"

She's  cut of by a commotion unfolding at the next phone.  A  guy who looks to be about seventeen's shouting obscenities into the receiver of  the other patient phone.

"I just called to say I'm so - "

The patient is screaming now, out of control, he slams the receiver repeatedly on the side of the phones cradle. The sound's  loud and unpleasant, to say the least. He moves now hitting the wall simultaneously with the phone and his fist in between incoherent curses. Two strong looking male nurses approach the boy rapidly. I watch the try to talk the boy down from his fit. They always try to talk a patient down, the first step: caution. The boy slams the receiver against the nurses hand when he tries to remove the phone from his hands, making him momentarily recoil in pain. The patient's getting progressively more violent by the second. The two nurses successfully restrain him after a scuffle. The guy gets even louder and struggles even more violently, I hadn't thought that to be possible.

"I'll let you go...you seem to have something going on over on that end."

The line goes dead. I place the receiver in it's cradle. I look over at the two nurses struggling to restrain the patient. Another nurse rushes to help, I know what comes next. Returning to my room, soon the boys protest quite, the quick acting sedatives taking effect. I lay on the bed and stare at the ceiling, crossing my arms tightly.  A self embrace, a tear rolls down my face. In the middle of the ceiling there is what looks like a round fire alarm, a tiny green light blinks on its side. I stare at this little flashing light for a long time. The room gets darker, signaling  the setting sun. I don't sleep. The nurse's begin to make their rounds. Once, twice, three times a nurse peers through the little square in the door with a flashlight. Each time they pass I feign sleep.
The memory of the last time I'd been prescribed sleeping meds more than enough motivation to close my eyes and relax my features, in the guise that is sleep. After being forced to take unpleasant heavy sedatives, you get creative.

My abdomen twangs, I can't take it any more and shakily stumble to the bathroom. I'm paranoid about the 'cameras'  and so turn off the lights. They don't work in the dark, I tell myself as I lower my pants, sitting on the toilet. Relief. I rinse my hands in the dark and splash water on my face; than I return to my bed.

I'm alone with my thoughts again. They crash against me, seizing me in different directions, negative thoughts overwhelm me, seducing me to entertain their dark intent. Than like a switch sporadic thoughts slap me like a shot, before one can be completed another overlaps. I feel helpless, I try to keep my head above water but each new title wave pushes me further into despair. I'm frustrated, I need a release. The thoughts build threatening to take over, I feel as if I am about to explode. The urges to strong, pushing me to act on them quick and fast. Tears of humiliation and helplessness are trailing my cheeks and soaking my neck, leaking down to the pillow. Flawed. Worthless. Embarrassment. CRAZY.