Momentum

Burbank

With school finally over this week, I started my 20 min commute to Burbank.

It wasn't a long drive, it actually was nice. Windows down, and the fresh air. I drove at a decent speed, thinking of all the things that Kara might want to do while out of the hospital. She didn't get out much, and I wanted to take her to the new bookstore that opened up next to the camera store.

Kara loved to take pictures. She told me once that whenever she took a picture, she captured the memory in her mind forever. I guess that was her way of telling me she had a photogenic memory.

By the time I finished my little rant in my head, I was already in the hospital parking lot. I found a spot, and headed into the visitors entrance.

You know how people always say that they hate hospitals? It never really seems like a place of warmth. When you really think about it, hospitals are just a place of death. Particularly with mental institutions, its just a place that continuously revolves around sorrow. People out of their mind, wondering why they aren't home with family, Being treated differently by "volunteers". More like guards.

Every time I walk into this.. place, a wave of grieve, and anger hits me. The emotions always unsettle me. I can never really shake them until I'm 5 miles down the road. But I keep my feelings down, for my sister.

This place hasn't changed since the first time I stepped over its threshold. The lobby, with its white walls and a sign that said, "The only prison we keep ourselves in are our mind." Who the hell puts that up in a place like this?

Luckily the nurses knew me well enough to just give me Kara's door key and let me ride up in the elevator. Unfortunately, the guard isn't so nice. He always insists on "escorting" me up in the elevator. It was this guy who was like in his mid 20s, and never stops staring at me. Even if there are other women in it with us.

But I ignore him. Focusing on this weekend.