Lost, Lost, Lost

After hitting each other's elbows, I hid under the covers. We had gotten yelled at and I giggled, earning us another round of screams. But it was okay, since his hand slipped through and held my own hand. My new medicine was making my hands all shaky, and for some reason while he squeezed them I felt jittery yet calm at the same time. I knew this wasn't right, especially at a psych ward where we weren't allowed any contact with each other when we left. But it seemed so... wonderful and rebellious. Those feelings made me feel sane and okay, and confused as to why I was in the hospital. But then I remembered before when I had this feeling, and took the pills.

That was why I was here. My head was rushing with awful thoughts and I almost felt suicidal again until I felt another tight squeeze. I looked over and smiled at this guy, who was almost as insane as I was, maybe even more. But he wasn't the one hearing voices as well as having major depression. He was just another one of those druggies. Except he was a druggie who liked me, which was sort of new.

He smiled back at me, his eyes longing for a kiss. I felt the need for one, too. It was such a shame that we couldn't have obvious relationships here. If we could, Chris and I would be hitting it off really, really good. I shut my eyes and thought about kissing him, pulling up his shirt, him unhooking my bra and us dancing under the moonlight. Naked. Making out, making love.

I needed this again.