Crazy what drugs do...

Get shot

Mark lightfoot...the name that changed my life. I didn't even know the name until over a month after it happened. The man that shot me...twice...in a blood vessel above my heart, created nerve damage down my left side and severely in my left hand...Immobilizing it, shattered my ribs, and collapsed my lungs.
    Yet here I sit distant from it...no real pain in my mind from it anymore...or at least I try to think...I smile at it almost when I watch the video of me gushing blood...does my smile stem from pain? I can't even tell anymore.
    I was once again in a mental hospital...nicer than most...scared and feeling alone.
    Every Time I end up at a place they switch up medications for the most part. Do my antipsychotics even help? Well my mood stabilizer seems too be. "Ha ha."
    I seem happier. Then my unrealistic reality sets in. I feel like the lights shine at me and all the creaks an small bangs of the house in the night are the people.   
    I call them the watchers...the creeps.
    The candle light doesn't help but to keep my thoughts of burning alive or burning the house, perhaps both.