014
I had only barely sunk into
my own personal pit
of despair
when I heard my bedroom door
creak open.
I knew it.
I knew they’d come crawling back to me
because they needed me.
Well, I didn’t know that, but just the thought of being
needed
made me feel so much better.
I was wrong.
There was nothing but an old, lost soul
at my doorway.
I made it blatantly obvious as I inspected
the deep wrinkles on her sagging face
and scoffed at her limp posture.
She didn’t seem to mind
my desperate attempts to get her
to leave.
Instead, she ambled up and sat down next to me
on the bed.
Her: Hello.
Me:
Her: My name is Ida.
Me: You’re in my room.
I quickly noticed that she was
determined.
She would not leave without some reaction
on my part.
I didn’t like fighting-
I hated fighting-
it was useless when you knew
that you were only just going to lose.
So I shot her a smile
and told her that my name was Bev.
Her: Short for Beverly? What a beautiful name!”
Me: Thank you.
Her: I just thought I’d come and say hello. You’re new here, correct?
Me: Yes.
Her: It’s always tough for the new ones, sweetie. If you don’t mind my asking, why are you here?
Me:
Frankly, I didn’t know why I was here.
They all thought I was crazy
when I so obviously
wasn’t.
No, I was crazy.
I knew I was.
I was a murderer and a
sociopath.
I had voices in my head
(they were just
voices)
I was introverted,
almost mute,
and had horrible
trust issues.
I was a nobody.
Me: I hear things.
Her: Oh…
Me:
Her: We have a lot of people like that in here.
Me:
Her: I have anxiety. And…I get panic attacks quite often.
Me:
Her: Well, dear, if you ever need a friend…someone to talk to…I can be that person.
She slid out of the room
and before I even knew it
I was alone again.
