Broken Soul Looking For Love

The Suicide Note

" I never thought I'd actually be writing this .. "
     That's what the top of the torn up piece of paper read. If anybody picked it up , they could most definitely tell it was previously filled with tears. In almost every sentence at least one word had ink smeared due to a tear drop or two.
~ 3 Weeks Earlier ~
I remember sitting in the hospital bed. My hands restrained so that I couldn't unbuckle the belt that was tightly secured around my waist and chest . I didn't even know how I got there. All I knew was I had a headache so bad it felt like I was hit with a brick.
I remember the nurse came in the room and started talking to me. I didn't answer any of her questions, but that was simply because she refused to answer mine. As we were talking , or more like as she was running her mouth and I was half way listening , things got worse. Just when the burning sensation on my wrists got close to being irritable, my father walks in. The fact that I didn't even know why I was in there made things much worse for me.
" YOU FUCKING DUMMY , YOU JUST WANT ATTENTION " that's all my dad kept repeating. I was so confused . Why was I a dummy ? What attention was I getting ? From who? Why was I even here? So many questions ran through my head. The nurse finally told me why I was there. She closed the door and sat down next to me. I remember she tried to sugar coat things and say it in a nice way. I just cut her off and said " so I tried to kill myself is what you telling me?" And she just shook her head yes. " I should've died. I don't understand why I didn't." that was how I felt and exactly what I said to the nurse . She wrote it down but I didn't care. As soon as she told me why I was there, I remembered the last conversation I had earlier that day. That conversation with Kyle just kept going and going in my head as if there was a replay button and someone kept pressing it.
     I wanted to go home. Just when I was thinking that, another lady came in and told my nurse that I was being moved to a facility of higher power. Whatever that meant. All I remember after that was waking up in an ambulance and being wheeled in a room that was all white. Talk about nervous? I was that and then some.
They weighed me, took my height ,checked me for any sharp objects and made me change my clothes. I remember I had my favorite sweatshirt on and they made me take the string out because apparently it was " hazardous" . After that I was already not beat to be there. I tried  to kill my self . Oh well, why was it such a big deal?
     Things went well for the first week. I earned privileges. Privileges such as more book time or drawing with a sharp enough pencil to make a straight line. Seems childish right ? I Know. All things regular people take for granted. I did what I had to do on a regular basis. Did you guys know people had to actually be told to take showers ? Or brush their teeth ? At the age of 16? Couldn't be me. It drove me nuts. This was a nut house though. Literally. Absolutely no pun intended . The people in here were beyond crazy. I remember one day this girl threatened to kill our counselor. We all had to evacuate the building until the girl was removed. These kids did to much for me. I was completely over it after only a week. I was tired of socks with grips on the bottom and still to this day I won't even look at them. I was tired of not being able to have shoe strings in my shoes. I was tired of asking the lady in the office for my tooth paste and mouth wash. It was just a terrible experience.
        Two more weeks went by and they finally let me go home. I could not wait to sleep in my own bed! The car ride home was silent. I was itching to just get out of the car. It was way to awkward for me. I didn't know if my dad was upset or angry or didn't care at all. I don't even think I wanted to know truthfully. As we got closer to home, my dad handed me a crumpled up piece of paper.
" I never thought I'd actually be writing this .. " . That's what the top of the torn up piece of paper read. It looked like a child or blind person had written the words that were on the paper . If anybody picked it up , they could most definitely tell it was previously filled with tears. In almost every sentence at least one word had ink smeared due to a tear drop or two.

      I was confused. The paper wasn't mine but he handed it to me and starred at me as if it were. I just pretended to read it and gave it back. He asked if I read it , and of course I lied and said I did. My dad knew I didn't read the note. He said to me , " baby girl , I know you didn't read the whole thing, you can't even read the whole thing but you read the first part. Do you see how your heart was pounding due to the suspense ? I nodded my head but I was still confused. What is he talking about? I spaced out when he was talking to me because I was to busy trying to figure out what he was talking to me about. When I finally snapped out of it, all I could catch was " you wrote that when you were eight years old and I didn't take it seriously because I didn't think I'd find myself in a position like you put me in a few weeks ago. I had to carry your half way lifeless body to the car and rush you to Monmouth Medical Center. I didn't know what was going to happen to you. You see the suspense? " that was all he said. He left it at that and I didn't have no words for him. I vividly remember writing that suicide note now that I think of it. Just a year after Sam started touching me. I remember I just wanted to die. Just like a few weeks ago. I just wanted to die. . .

* Picture of my information sticker from the mental hospital *