I Was Just Looking For A Way Out...
Chapter 7
Eventually other people start to show up, leave, and come back with other people. Apparently a newcomer is an odd commodity around here. I’m a little surprised by it, I mean with all the drama and hypersensitivity that everyone has in high school, I’d think admittance in a teen ward would be pretty high. Anyways, I’m surrounded by like 10 people pretending not to stare, trust me they aren’t doing a very good job.
I probably should have taken a minute to make sure my hair was down I’m sure bed head isn’t making me look any less crazy. I get up and walk back to my room, of course with at least one set of eyes following me the whole way. When I get back to the room hot stuff is still asleep. I grab some clothes from the little survival bag my mom packed and walk to the bathroom. I turn the water on and look myself in the face.
I seriously can barely stand to see my own reflection, but I do. I look directly into the hideous conglomeration that is me. The dark brown hair and eyes, the disgusting disproportionate mold of skin I’ve grown into. Don’t tell me any different, it may be nice to hear it, but we all know how horribly unattractive I am, and I'm reminded every time I look myself in the mirror. I step into the shower, not bothering to check the temperature; it’s cold but I stay in.
It kind of feels like the first day of high school… except for the whole mental disease thing. I can tell it’s defiantly a teen ward, I mean there can’t be more then 50 people on the floor and the 15 I saw didn’t look any older then 18. At least I hope it is… It’d be creepy eating next to a psychotic murderer, drugged and treated or not.
Either way I can’t hope for too much, I mean my guy curious side of whatever the fuck sexuality I do have is still very much in the closet, and any girls are sure to fall for the Amish dreamboat I room with before me.
…and I really just used the word dreamboat didn’t I? He’s even got me fawning like a 13 year old girl.
Either way I can’t compare. I don’t even know why I wanted to fix the crazy hair, I’d probably be better off with people thinking I’ll bite them if they try to talk to me.
Friendliness get’s people hurt, nobody ever died from solitude… except for the whole suicide thing I guess.
When I’m done, dry, and clothed I walk out hoping my model roomy is still asleep, or at least thinks my hair looks okay. Too bad he’s gone… it’s a shame, I actually straightened it for once. Hope he doesn’t mind me borrowing his straight iron.
I suddenly feel how hungry I am… I know the last thing my disgusting body needs is good, but I still leave in search of the cafeteria. Hospital food’s good for you anyway.
Of course it’s breakfast time so the place is packed. I grab a tray, get my good, and awkwardly find a table that’s half empty. I sit down by myself and look down at the yellow crap I’m assuming is supposed to be eggs… at least I’m hoping it’s eggs. This is way too much like high school; except; you know minus all of my friends.
Then it occurs to me for the first time, what am I going to do about school? I mean I doubt a check into a mental hospital get’s me excused from English homework. At least not with my bitchy teacher. I really can’t afford to have any missing work, I’m barely keeping semi-decent grades as it is.
I feel something touch my shoulder and I jump a little and look to see what it was. I’m sure it didn’t look the least bit crazy… When I turn my head, a really pretty girl is about an inch away from my face.
“Uhmmmm excuse me? Are you new here?”
I probably should have taken a minute to make sure my hair was down I’m sure bed head isn’t making me look any less crazy. I get up and walk back to my room, of course with at least one set of eyes following me the whole way. When I get back to the room hot stuff is still asleep. I grab some clothes from the little survival bag my mom packed and walk to the bathroom. I turn the water on and look myself in the face.
I seriously can barely stand to see my own reflection, but I do. I look directly into the hideous conglomeration that is me. The dark brown hair and eyes, the disgusting disproportionate mold of skin I’ve grown into. Don’t tell me any different, it may be nice to hear it, but we all know how horribly unattractive I am, and I'm reminded every time I look myself in the mirror. I step into the shower, not bothering to check the temperature; it’s cold but I stay in.
It kind of feels like the first day of high school… except for the whole mental disease thing. I can tell it’s defiantly a teen ward, I mean there can’t be more then 50 people on the floor and the 15 I saw didn’t look any older then 18. At least I hope it is… It’d be creepy eating next to a psychotic murderer, drugged and treated or not.
Either way I can’t hope for too much, I mean my guy curious side of whatever the fuck sexuality I do have is still very much in the closet, and any girls are sure to fall for the Amish dreamboat I room with before me.
…and I really just used the word dreamboat didn’t I? He’s even got me fawning like a 13 year old girl.
Either way I can’t compare. I don’t even know why I wanted to fix the crazy hair, I’d probably be better off with people thinking I’ll bite them if they try to talk to me.
Friendliness get’s people hurt, nobody ever died from solitude… except for the whole suicide thing I guess.
When I’m done, dry, and clothed I walk out hoping my model roomy is still asleep, or at least thinks my hair looks okay. Too bad he’s gone… it’s a shame, I actually straightened it for once. Hope he doesn’t mind me borrowing his straight iron.
I suddenly feel how hungry I am… I know the last thing my disgusting body needs is good, but I still leave in search of the cafeteria. Hospital food’s good for you anyway.
Of course it’s breakfast time so the place is packed. I grab a tray, get my good, and awkwardly find a table that’s half empty. I sit down by myself and look down at the yellow crap I’m assuming is supposed to be eggs… at least I’m hoping it’s eggs. This is way too much like high school; except; you know minus all of my friends.
Then it occurs to me for the first time, what am I going to do about school? I mean I doubt a check into a mental hospital get’s me excused from English homework. At least not with my bitchy teacher. I really can’t afford to have any missing work, I’m barely keeping semi-decent grades as it is.
I feel something touch my shoulder and I jump a little and look to see what it was. I’m sure it didn’t look the least bit crazy… When I turn my head, a really pretty girl is about an inch away from my face.
“Uhmmmm excuse me? Are you new here?”