Diary

October, 5th, 2006

Dear Diary,

Sitting up, tiredly, on a soft, red bench since one something, I fell asleep vertically after fifteen minutes. The feel of this place, this hospice, isn’t comforting on my mind, still wide awake thinking, while I sit and rest.

My parents have long gone, so I am alone, with a bunch of unknown strangers.

I really should have known that a part of my, forever fading, life would be spent in a place like this. I still feel surprised, though, that the audacity of my stubbornness had stretched so wide.

I wasn’t being intentionally rude, crazed, or rebellious to my mother, damned to remain the consistent picture of her sign, Taurus.

As she adjusts, positively, to the ramblings of gossip she’ll no doubt hear spoken of me, the one who hates her most.

My father wasn’t any help either.

He did go into the house, while I hadn’t been restrained just yet. I stood in the living room, with him, and a police officer. The same question was being uttered, for the fifth time:

“Erra, do you want to be sent away, to that hospital?” It can be arranged.”

I just looked into their faces for a while, frowning, then, I looked down, saying nothing. Knowing justice wasn’t in my favor that night.

I did nothing but shake my head, and look away. In seeing that nothing could be done, I was handcuffed and my rights were read all the while.

He left, after law enforcement decided to take matters into their hands. I was strapped into the front seat, hands, handcuffed in a strange position behind me, against the seat.

I remembered the lighter days, sitting there, anguished, of my life. All I did was watch television, but I felt whole in the place of mind I rented. I was noticed in public, gorgeous looks and interesting eyes over powering my air.

I wasn’t exactly happy or sad, being half-bipolar and a nervous wreck. So, even if I could give an attempt at crying, it’d be in vain. So, I really didn’t care either way where I was going, or when I’d ever see my home again.

My head was light, and, surprisingly, carefree of anything while sitting in that car.

A female German Sheppard sat in the back, a space reserved for it. It kept whimpering, apparently feeling the pain and nervousness I gave off. Until, we finally reached the local Mexia hospital.

I guess I never really understood what was happening that night, I was tugged this way and that, like a dank corpse, freshly uprooted, after ten months in absence of the daylight on Earth.

I willingly climbed out of the front seat, even though my arms ached and my stomach trembled, and made my way, with the officer’s, truly, unnecessary guidance, into the emergency wing.

I remember seeing something familiar outside, on that cold, windy night, but it’s most likely something my mind may never access again.

Into the lit corridor I was dragged. It seemed that my hesitant behavior was obvious. I needed to be pushed inside, into a white room, all the space of the emergency wing seemed made-up of that same, drab, off-white color.

I sat down, and waited for three hours before being checked. For what, I don’t know, and even if I could revoke it, it's likely I wouldn't be able to.

After sitting there, immobile, and being watched from time to time by the nosy hospital staff, my throat received a dry feeling making it hard for me to refuse that visit to the water fountain.

Nearly three hours later, five-fifteen, I got back into the car as we headed towards downtown Mexia, my guess was we were heading to the police station.

The faint, morning light, blinded me slowy, the car, pushing forward, in the direction of the early, sunrise.