Did I just arrive here or did I live here forever?

I don’t know but I'm pretty sure I don’t fit in here. They watch crappy television all day. Half them drooling all over themselves. I tried to change the channel once and it started a riot. Don’t rock the boat, that’s what I got out of it. So I don’t. I can’t figure out what they’re all watching or what they’re getting from it. If anything.

I get myself in trouble in this place. Throw food. Break stuff. Start fist-fights. It’s the only way I know I’ll get a latenight visit from Her. On the nights that they strap me down and beat me, she comes for me. Does things to me. Does things to herself, in front of me. And I love it. And I know she’s not real. She might’ve been once, but not now. Not here. Besides, she used to be pure as the driven snow...

They just keep giving me drugs. Sometimes it’s great. Other times I’m hyper aware of how bored I am of everything, but am powerless to do anything about it. It’s interesting though, my doctor? He’s not a doctor. I swear he was a patient here, and not too long ago. I remember quite clearly cheering him on as he threw a full bowl of oatmeal at the wall, then cheering on the guards who beat him bloody. He’s wearing the little white coat now, though, doodling weird little pictures on his clipboard, not listening to a thing I say. Will I get to be the doctor some day? When’s my turn? How does it all work?

The feeling is, from those that are almost entirely unglazed, that something must be done. We must escape. We must take the place over. We must do something. Something. Everybody agrees that we must do something. Nobody agrees on what or wants to be the one that starts whatever this something is. We are all afraid and at the same time, far too busy doing absolutely nothing at all. Each of us glazes over again and any coherent discussion is lost amidst the burble of my fellow madmen and an ever-yammering idiot box. It’s just so loud. Hurts my ears. But sometimes I get into it, you know? Course you do. How could you not?