Christmas is my least favorite holiday. I’m not exactly sure why. Maybe it’s because my family makes very little effort to make it joyful, besides loads (and LOADS) of gifts. It seems like any other day. It’s quite depressing.

Or maybe it’s just because I’m just a generally miserable person. You see, I have Lupus/JRA, and I’m in pain most of the time. It’s been a five year fiasco (that’s a great band/movie name, methinks) but I’ll probably tell you about that later. (actually, I probably won’t. I have a hard time commiting) I take a lot of pain meds. I take Lortab, but I used to take Tramadol. I stopped because it drove me into psychosis and I ended up in an asylum. It was scary. I was trying/wanting to kill myself and other people. (it’s one of those things that you think will never happen to you and…what d’ya know, it does.)

The Asylum was horrid. I was only there for three days, though. (what a wuss) My mom got me out AMA. We later learned that girls had been molested there. I’ve realized that asylums aren’t places to get better in-they’re society’s trash bins. People put difficult people there because they can’t handle them. (not in my case. I was actually crazy) I met girls there that were anything but crazy. Only one really was. She was a schizophrenic. (did I spell that right?) She threw a chair.

The other ones were really just put there because their parent’s didn’t want them. Two girls that were there stand out in my mind. They were the cool girls there. The Angelina Jolie’s of “Girl, Interrupted”. I was Wynona Ryder. One was named Sierra. She had short, bobbed blond hair and a big smile. She also had striking blue-green eyes. I forgot the other girl’s name. She looked half Asian with shoulder length black hair. She had a streak in her hair that was the color of the Cheshire Cat. We’ll call her Cat.

I remember the walk up to the place. I was shaking the whole time. I didn’t want to go, but I new I needed to if I wanted to…you know, not be crazy anymore. We went up an elevator (I fucking hate elevators) and walked into a sort of wating room/courtyard thing. I went in to be checked in and to have my blood pressure taken, and my family (mom, grandma, grandpa) waited in the other large room to talk to…whatever demon was in charge at the moment. We (the male nurse and I) were buzzed into the gates of hell (I’m so horribly melodramatic, no?) and I was set down at a table. It was a very large room divided into two parts. On my right was a long table with many girls sitting at it, staring at me. There was one other table, and a hall with doors all down it. On my left was a tv with chairs set up in front of it. I can’t remember clearly if there was a hall, but I remember that it was the boy’s side, so there must of been. In the center there was a rounded window with a room behind it. That’s where the people in charge sit. They store your things in there and do…other stuff, I’m not totally sure. It looked very important.

The enviorment reminded me of a hospital waiting room. I was expecting the inside of a hospital, with rooms that had portable beds and medical things in them. I was dissapointed. I wanted it to look like the Asylum in A Nightmare on Elm Street 3. I would have felt more secure in a medical enviorment. Everything there felt fake.

I went up to a table in front of the Important Desk where they had a blood pressure machine. They tried to take my blood pressure but couldn’t find it. They brought out two more machines but nothing worked. And thus began my reputation there as a vampire. (we’ll get into that later)

After that, I went to sit with the girls. I can clearly remember the first thing I said…

“Please don’t eat me alive.”

“Oh no, we’re not THAT crazy. Well, maybe she is” Said one of them, pointed to Schizo Girl, who smiled at me.

’That’s not what I meant, stupid.’ I didn’t say that.

They all asked me why I was here. I spent most of that time with my head down, sitting on my hands.

”You look like a porn star” Said Sierra.

”…thank you?”

”No, that’s a *good thing*!”

That gave me and excellent idea of exactly who I was dealing with here. THOSE girls. The ones that get into street fights and have sex for quarter pounders. Not even Big Macs…quarter pounders. I had it set in my mind that I didn’t want any part of this. I wasn’t that kind of girl. I was Hannibal Lector, not some “troubled child”. I didn’t need the kind of “help” they had for me here.

After a few minutes of that, I was called back to say goodbye to my family. Now, before I get into this, I’d like to say something. This is where I get all serious and emotional. It’s hard for me to right about and may be hard to read. It was one of the most painful things that’s happened to me.

Anyway, I was buzzed back through the big double doors. I saw my family sitting on the couch there, but all I could see was mom.

Mommy and I have a very very close relationship. She’s my best friend and I’m hers. We do everything together. I used to have seperation anxiety as a child for two reasons:

1. I need to protect her. What if something happens? What if she gets shot when I’m at school or while she’s at the store? These kinds of horrible ideas go through the mind of an OCD six year old 24/7.

2. Mommy was my way to be in control. No one listens to little girls. People listen to mommies. If I didn’t want to do something, I didn’t have to. I’d just tell mommy and she’d tell the doctor/teacher/whoever that I didn’t want to, and therefor I didn’t have to. When she was gone, I had no say in my life. No control is a control freak’s worst fear.

”Mom, I don’t want to do this. I’m fine. Let’s go home,” I lied through my teeth.

”No.”

”…what? Mom, what are you talking about?” I knew exactly what she was talking about. I knew exactly what was going on and what was about to happen. I felt the most awful lump rise in my throat from my chest. I felt like I was about to vomit my heart up. My eyes stung.

”I think you need to stay here. You’re sick, honey” She was crying by now, but had that face she puts on when I used to cry as a kid when I had to get my blood drawn. She had to stay strong on this one.

”Come on, say goodbye” said the nurse guy.

Oh fuck. Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck. That’s all I could think. I went into hysterics. “I CAN’T GO! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! I HAVE TO STAY WITH MOM! MOM, DON’T LEAVE ME PLEASE, I’M FINE!” I could tell this guy had seen this sort of thing before.

”Come on, Jamie. She’ll be fine.” Said Grandsy.

’Fuck no, I won’t be fine, bitch” was all I could think.

”I love you, honey.” Mom said.

”Come this way, Ma’am,” said someone else, I forgot exactly who. I remember them acting like they were just going to let me cool down for awhile, and then I’d get to see her again. Nope. They took her, and I didn’t even get to say goodbye. It was like I was six again.

I can’t remember much of what happened after that. I remember saying I just wanted to go to sleep, but they had to ask me a few questions first. Some lady pulled out her important clipboard.

The question that sticks out to me was “Are you having suicidal thoughts?”

…if I wasn’t having suicidal thoughts, Miss, why the fuck would I be here?

”…yes?”

”Hmm…oh, I see.” She gave me an important person look. “We’ll have to put you on suicide watch, then.”

What in God’s name is suicide watch? Aren’t we ALL on suicide watch? Isn’t that what hell holes like this are for?!?

I later learned that suicide watch equals: “HA HA, you have to sleep out in the hall on a matress while we WATCH YOU. FOR SUICIDE.”

I insited on going to bed, and so they made me drag my mattress out in the bright hall, still fully lit, where I cried quietly to myself. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. Why was I here? Why on earth would God do something so horrid to me? I don’t want to be crazy. I want to be normal, and I want to go home. I pretended to stop wanting kill people for awhile, but that didn’t work out too well. I pretended to not what to die, but that didn’t work either. Instead, I though about madly slaughtering all the nurses and doctors with a spork, then hanging myself with sheets.

A few minutes into my little camp-out of despair, one of the nurses came and looked down one me. He was a nice black guy, one of the nicest people I met there. I think he felt sorry for me.

”So, are you hungry?”

”No.”

”…are you a robot? I think you’re a robot” I smiled and laughed a little at that.

”No, I’m just sad and tired”

”Alright, Robot’s gotta recharge, I get it. Good night, Robot!”

I didn’t sleep much. Sometime in the middle of the night, a lady woke me up to take my blood. I’d had my blood taken so many times, I couldn’t give two shits about it.

”Wow, you don’t mind much, do you?”

”Nah, I’m used to it” I realized later that I sounded like I shot up a lot.

That’s all I’m going to write for now, since I need to do some schoolwork and try to better myself. I’ll probably just end up looking up Halloween Horror Nights on YouTube. Oh well.

Thanks for reading, if anyone did,

Rianne