The Thoughts of Insanity

Coming Out of My Shell

Do you ever just feel trapped in a world of darkness, surrounding yourself in the void you created? There's no one to hear you scream, cry or speak. Walking and walking trying to figure out a way out, but there's nowhere to go. Well that's my life, trapped in my own thoughts. Trapped in a world where I put my own self. No one to help me but myself, but obviously I don't want any help or I would be better by now. I put chains on myself tying myself down, so I can't get up. No help but myself, but I don't give any. The saying that you're your worst enemy, is true. It could possibly be the truest saying out there. Yourself is your own hero and enemy, but my nightmare is over powering. Sinking more into the void with no words, just quiet, darkness. I'm learning to enjoy it because you gotta just love the void, right? - Elerise Marr'e

"Time to get up!" I overhear the same old voice over the speakers, the best way to get up. Mentally rolling my eyes at the same line I wake up to everyday every since I was born. They make us wake up so damn early, it's unnecessary, not all of us want to eat. I don't really get out of my room much, only if I have to. The morning is the worst, it's when everyone here is grumpy and moody, no one is a morning person, including me. I usually take a couple of minutes just looking at the ceiling before I actually get up, but today I accentiatley, rolled out of bed, hitting the ground, harder than I thought I would.

"FUCK!" I yelled out of pain. I covered my mouth after realizing I might've done it too loudly. We're not really aloud to curse but they gave up keeping me in check throughout the years. I'm just surprised that no one came into my room and lectured me, that's what they did last time, I guess it was too early for them too. I just want to lay on my floor forever. There was a slight knock on my door, I sigh because I know it's the people in charge telling me that I need to get ready. I quickly get off my floor and put on my ugly, baggy clothes that I wear constantly. I look at my journal I write in everyday and I hide in my best hiding spot I have. I slowly dread out the door and walk to the cafeteria, one of the rooms where all the patients are aloud to be at the same time. I'm not really a person person, it makes breakfast even harder than it should be, having to interact in all.

"Good morning doll." Gabe, acts likes my uncle but is not, greets me like he does every morning. I smile at him, not really wanting to talk. He understands that I don't talk much and he doesn't push me to, I'm grateful for that. He smiles back knowing today isn't the day I will start talking. "Enjoy breakfast my dear." With that, I was going to the back of the room where they serve food. I always get the same thing for every breakfast, scrambled eggs. It was my mother's favorite. I grab the scrambled eggs and go sit in one of the dark corners, I really do hate interacting.

I slowly play around with my food before eating it. I dread every meal. Though I still eat it because if I don't, the leaders will mark it down and keep me here forever. I'd hate that even more than I hate myself. I blame myself for everything, ugh, why do I have to be me. I don't talk to people because I'm scared that they'll leave me just like they did. I finally finish my food and put the plate where the dirty dishes are. I make my way out of the cafeteria back into my room, I can't go back to sleep because it'll be just a challenge and I don't have the effort to do anything.

I take my journal and a pencil that I found one day and started to draw what I thought the Eiffel Tower to look like. I like drawing because it makes me focus on something that's not my own thoughts. I've been told I got my art skills from my mother. I have a lot of my traits from my mother but I look more like my father. I always dream about going to Paris one day, my mother use to talk about it every night to put me to sleep. She use to say that one day her and my father were going to take a family trip there and visit her mother's favorite spots. My mother was born in Edinburgh, Scotland but my father was born in Toronto, Canada. They met in this place, in California. The place where anyone fears to end up, where I grew up, the mental hospital. They don't call it an insane asylum anymore because the government will shut it down, it's now illegal to have an insane asylum. I observe a lot of what goes down in this place, it gives me something to do.

After I finish my drawing of the day, I put my journal back in it's hiding spot. I go out of my room feeling confident for once. I walk into the main hanging out room and sit on the couch. There's not a lot of kids my age here so I get to be around adults, a lot. When I am around the kids, they're either scared they will hurt me or just shy around me. I don't mind that, actually I don't really care to talk but something in me is wanting to, which is unusual. I wait for the right time to actually use my voice, which I haven't in awhile. I honestly forgot what I sound like. There's not a lot of people in the hangout room at this time, most people are either getting their treatment or doing their own thing in their room. It's way too late to back down now, but who to talk to. Finally Gabe walks over to me and smiles while he takes the other sit on the couch.

"Hey..." I let out a small whisper. Gabe looks at me with confused in his eyes. Either he didn't hear me or is just shocked that I said something. I didn't know which one so I decided to try saying it a little louder. "H-Hey..." it didn't take long till there was a big grin on his face.

"Oh, hello, my dear, how are you?" He sounded happy to actually hear my voice.

"I am o-okay, I could do a li-little be-better." I slowly got out my sentence with a stutter, jeez, talking is hard. At least I'm trying, it's the effort that counts. I think for now Gabe is the only one I feel comfortable talking to. He understands my dilemma, and he doesn't push me to do anything like some of the workers do.

"Well, my dear, you don't have to be great, it's human nature. At least you're talking, that's the best gift. You honestly shouldn't to be here, you should be in a nice home with caring parents."

"I know, it's not my fault that I am here though, so I live on what's given to me." I didn't even stutter once when I said that. I didn't really want to speak after that. I could see that Gabe notices because he doesn't say anything either, he just gives me a nod. There's pity in his eyes, the thing I hate most, pity, I don't need it, it was the look of everyone when my parents died. Pity, a cause for regret or disappointment, such a disgusting word. I shake my head at his look, making him confused. Confused is better than pity. I get up knowing I'm done and I head back to my room, where there's no pity, no one to judge me, no one to feel responsible for me, except myself.

The staff here know how I am, they don't disturb me when I am in my room. Time flies by slowly in this place, sometimes I think time stops, the clocks stay the same time, nothing going forward. There is a pause in every second, every hour, every month, every year, time truly stops, the world stops spinning, we all don't notice because we're frozen in time. People, planets, other organisms are just little specks that fill up the universe. The big idea is just time, too little, too much, just enough, time, that's what everyone wants. Even me, I want more time, just enough to see my parents again, just enough to be alright, just for one more second. Rain, it's the saddest sight you could see, well if you see it that way. Rain could be good, if you only see the light in it. Seeing the good in everything takes energy, it takes time. Everything goes back to time. The world, the universe, time, time, time.

Slowly sinking more into the hospital bed that I was given. The uncomfortable, disgusting hospital bed. It's full of memories, that either I or others have had. Rain, no, tears fall down my face. I don't like people seeing me cry, it's the weakest part of me that I have. I know it's just a human emotion, but it feels horrible to just cry. What to cry for, my parent's death or just my sad self, it truly sucks to be me. The darkness has taken over me once again, I can't do anything about it either. I just let it happen. No sound, No sight but darkness, nothing surrounding me anymore but the void that traps me inside. The hateful thoughts blaming me for everything. I hide it from others, I don't want people to pity me. I don't want the world to pity me.

There's a quick knock that brings me out just for a slight second before blacking out. I don't remember much of what really is happening to me. Blacking out wasn't a big ordeal for me, it only happens sometimes, when I overload with thoughts. When I blackout, thoughts and imagines pop up in my head, sometimes they're scary but others they're just random. This time they're scaring the living shit out of me. I want to leave but I can't. Pictures of my dead parents, with me standing right by them with no emotion. My parents were cold, and pale. They had their eyes open, looking at me, black stoned eyes, just glaring at me with judgment and pity. I just want to fall to my knees and cry but I can't, there's something tying me down, rope, no, straps from a insane asylum bed. I start trying to struggle my way out but it's too tight. Slowly fading away in the existence I know and things start to get clearer. I'm having a panic attack in one of the hospital's rooms. I look around to see if there's something that looked familiar.