staples // h.s

chapter one // broken souls

chapter one

There were tables filled with people all around me, but I still felt alone. All of them were in a similar situation to myself but I felt like I couldn't relate to any single one of them.

We were all broken souls, searching for a way to mend the tear that had forced its way in.

In the dining room, there was always a monotonous chatter as patients tried to interact. Some searched for company to comfort their own aches, some stared at the food on the plate rather than actually eating it. There were all sorts of us in there.

There were the scarily skinny ones, the ones with the easily recognisable disorders. There were the more robust ones, not always as recognisable. The scary part was that most of us were the 'normal' ones. With us, you had to look beneath the surface to distinguish what was actually wrong with us. Our problems lay hidden underneath the layers of soft tissue and bone.

Not everyone had something severely wrong with them. Temporary stints weren't uncommon - a short period of time for them to get their head together. On the other hand, there were those of us with indefinite sentences. It would be for the professionals to determine when we were 'well' enough to be released back into the world.

Whilst some got on with life in the centre, I tried to escape. Obviously, I couldn't physically escape; I couldn't make it fifty steps without being caught. My means of escape were my thoughts. I'd blank for hours on end, blocking out everyone and everything.

I'd choose to stare at a wall (or the floor) and wallow in the emptiness that I felt. That's all I felt. I wasn't happy, I wasn't tired, I wasn't upset. I was just empty. A vast pit of nothing.

They'd try to thrust activities upon me. They thought it was a coping method, that if I could just preoccupy myself then I might not be so bad. I never participated. Thus extending the uncertain length of time that I would have to spend in the centre.

Nobody knew when I'd leave. Nobody knew if I'd leave. I was a hollow shell, void of any emotion or feeling.

I didn't know if I'd ever feel a thing.