Crazy
Chapter 14
I’m arrested. I’m actually in prison right now. Well, juvie. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I mean, EVER. I’d rather be with my parents right now, fighting with them, like always. I’d rather be in school right now with all the boring preps. I’d definitely rather be getting beaten up by Josh. I should have never killed him. I’d rather be anywhere but here.
They’re thinking about whether to keep me here in this juvenile detention center or trying me as an adult and sending me off to prison. Real prison.
They think I might be a harmful person to the other kids! What the fuck? Me? Harmful? They must be mixing me up with somebody else. I would never harm a fly. I’m an aspie for crying out loud! What kind of harm could a retard like me do?
I’m actually stuck here with bullies! Real live bullies and they think I’m the harmful one? What the fuck? To tell you the truth, I didn’t think any bullies existed here in Connecticut. Well, mean kids, yeah. Like, those popular, bitchy, cheerleader-type ones. Not the kind that goes around beating up random people for no reason at all. I’m scared, myself, and that’s a first.
I want to escape. The only problem is that I have no idea how. I’m stuck somewhere I don’t want to be.
I go to the cafeteria to get food. It looks gross, and smells gross. There’s no way in a million years that I’m eating THAT. I feel grossed out just by looking at it, and smelling it. Imagine how it will taste…
I reluctantly take a bite. I take another one and another one. I take three bites and then, I stop eating.
“I can’t eat anymore,” I tell everyone.
“You have to eat,” one officer yelled in my ear.
I argued and argued and argued with him.
I feel sick to my stomach. All that food makes me want to throw up. I can’t though…not here. They’ll probably think I’m bulimic. I mean, they made me eat because they thought I was anorexic...What the fuck?
I hate to say it, but for the first time in my life, I feel depressed. Really depressed. I mean, yeah, once in a while, I have a bad day and get angry, but I always thought people who were legit depressed were stupid. Why can’t they just go on with their lives and be happy? But now, I realize, that happiness is a lie. Or maybe I just feel that way because I’m having an extremely bad day. Maybe my day is getting the best of me.
Oh. My. God. I sound like a crazy person. This place is turning me into a fucking lunatic!
I sit there, watching TV. It’s the news – it’s one of the only television shows that we’re allowed to watch here. Even though it may be triggering or whatever to some people, they think crime shows like CSI are even more triggering. They say that they think those shows will brainwash us when they are the ones really brainwashing us. Apparently the news doesn’t brainwash us – it just informs us. Yeah, right.
The news is bullshit. The media’s bullshit. Everything is bullshit. Don’t these people realize it? Nah, because they’re bullshit too.
Oh. My. God. I need to get out of here so bad. I need to get out of here now.
Later, as I’m watching TV, one of my cell mates tell me that I’m a stupid punk. That’s legit what they said – a stupid punk. Who says the word punk anymore as an insult? I mean, seriously. Isn’t “punk” a trend now? I mean, what about all those emo kids that want to be punk? It’s not something that people hate to be called anymore.
“That word is SO last year,” I tell her.
I sound like a preppy valley-girl or something stupid like that. I don’t care though.
“Don’t tell me what I say is not cool anymore?” she yells back in response.
She’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. She makes me gag…that’s how gross she is. She has messy brown hair – usually I like the grungy look but on her, I don’t. She’s fat. I literally mean, she’s like, humongous or something. She has a green eyes…and one of them is a black eye, probably from fighting some skinny weak person. She’s probably so weak that despite her size, she can’t find anyone – even a skinny weak person. Haha.
I’m actually laughing to myself right now. That’s how nuts this place is driving me. Seriously.
“Why are you laughing at?” she asks, in an angry voice. “YOU FUCKING RETARD!”
“Um retarded is a word used by abelists, to degrade people with special needs,” I say, trying not to sound stupid.
“You actually are a retard, aren’t you?”
And with that, she punches me in the face. I don’t do anything back. For once in my life, I accept the defeat. I just sit there, saying nothing, doing nothing. Just accepting the defeat, and I fucking hate myself for it.
I go to sleep, feeling a tear run down my cheek. I don’t know what to do. I can’t cry, so I try my best to hold back the tears, and I fail at it too.
I wake up the next morning. Happy. Happy that I get to see my lawyer today. Maybe he could get me out of here. Okay, I highly doubt that’s going to happen…I’m just being optimistic…
I never really liked lawyers. They always seemed like rich assholes to me. But this time, I feel like I have to try and be nice to one, because if I’m not nice, they probably won’t try and get me out of here. Then again, it’s all about winning the case so they could get more money.
I see my lawyer. I expected it to be a man. An old man, with white hair and a suit. But instead, it’s a woman. A young girl, even. She’s like around twenty-something. She has blonde hair, put back in to a pony tail, and pretty blue eyes. She has black rimmed glasses. She’s wearing a pretty black skirt with pink flowers and whatnot on it. She also has on a black sweater. She looks real pretty, real preppy.
“I know how I could get you out of here,” she tells me, and before I could smile, she adds something else…something that I don’t really want to hear. “But you are NOT going to like it.”
“What is it?” I ask, afraid to hear the answer, but wanting to know it anyway.
“We’re going to plead insanity.”
“But I’m not insane…”
“You have Aspegers.”
She points to one of her papers, and I nod.
“That doesn’t make me insane, you ableist asshole….”
“Do you want to get out of here or not?”
I just tell her I do, and let her do what she wants to do.
We end up seeing each other all the time. My lawyer and I. I don’t really like seeing her, to be honest. She’s too demanding. I never liked demanding people. Whatever though, I have to try my best to be nice to her and do what she says. After all, I do want to get out of here. Actually – let me rephrase that. I don’t just want to get out of here but I also NEED to get out of here.
Yep.
They’re thinking about whether to keep me here in this juvenile detention center or trying me as an adult and sending me off to prison. Real prison.
They think I might be a harmful person to the other kids! What the fuck? Me? Harmful? They must be mixing me up with somebody else. I would never harm a fly. I’m an aspie for crying out loud! What kind of harm could a retard like me do?
I’m actually stuck here with bullies! Real live bullies and they think I’m the harmful one? What the fuck? To tell you the truth, I didn’t think any bullies existed here in Connecticut. Well, mean kids, yeah. Like, those popular, bitchy, cheerleader-type ones. Not the kind that goes around beating up random people for no reason at all. I’m scared, myself, and that’s a first.
I want to escape. The only problem is that I have no idea how. I’m stuck somewhere I don’t want to be.
I go to the cafeteria to get food. It looks gross, and smells gross. There’s no way in a million years that I’m eating THAT. I feel grossed out just by looking at it, and smelling it. Imagine how it will taste…
I reluctantly take a bite. I take another one and another one. I take three bites and then, I stop eating.
“I can’t eat anymore,” I tell everyone.
“You have to eat,” one officer yelled in my ear.
I argued and argued and argued with him.
I feel sick to my stomach. All that food makes me want to throw up. I can’t though…not here. They’ll probably think I’m bulimic. I mean, they made me eat because they thought I was anorexic...What the fuck?
I hate to say it, but for the first time in my life, I feel depressed. Really depressed. I mean, yeah, once in a while, I have a bad day and get angry, but I always thought people who were legit depressed were stupid. Why can’t they just go on with their lives and be happy? But now, I realize, that happiness is a lie. Or maybe I just feel that way because I’m having an extremely bad day. Maybe my day is getting the best of me.
Oh. My. God. I sound like a crazy person. This place is turning me into a fucking lunatic!
I sit there, watching TV. It’s the news – it’s one of the only television shows that we’re allowed to watch here. Even though it may be triggering or whatever to some people, they think crime shows like CSI are even more triggering. They say that they think those shows will brainwash us when they are the ones really brainwashing us. Apparently the news doesn’t brainwash us – it just informs us. Yeah, right.
The news is bullshit. The media’s bullshit. Everything is bullshit. Don’t these people realize it? Nah, because they’re bullshit too.
Oh. My. God. I need to get out of here so bad. I need to get out of here now.
Later, as I’m watching TV, one of my cell mates tell me that I’m a stupid punk. That’s legit what they said – a stupid punk. Who says the word punk anymore as an insult? I mean, seriously. Isn’t “punk” a trend now? I mean, what about all those emo kids that want to be punk? It’s not something that people hate to be called anymore.
“That word is SO last year,” I tell her.
I sound like a preppy valley-girl or something stupid like that. I don’t care though.
“Don’t tell me what I say is not cool anymore?” she yells back in response.
She’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. She makes me gag…that’s how gross she is. She has messy brown hair – usually I like the grungy look but on her, I don’t. She’s fat. I literally mean, she’s like, humongous or something. She has a green eyes…and one of them is a black eye, probably from fighting some skinny weak person. She’s probably so weak that despite her size, she can’t find anyone – even a skinny weak person. Haha.
I’m actually laughing to myself right now. That’s how nuts this place is driving me. Seriously.
“Why are you laughing at?” she asks, in an angry voice. “YOU FUCKING RETARD!”
“Um retarded is a word used by abelists, to degrade people with special needs,” I say, trying not to sound stupid.
“You actually are a retard, aren’t you?”
And with that, she punches me in the face. I don’t do anything back. For once in my life, I accept the defeat. I just sit there, saying nothing, doing nothing. Just accepting the defeat, and I fucking hate myself for it.
I go to sleep, feeling a tear run down my cheek. I don’t know what to do. I can’t cry, so I try my best to hold back the tears, and I fail at it too.
I wake up the next morning. Happy. Happy that I get to see my lawyer today. Maybe he could get me out of here. Okay, I highly doubt that’s going to happen…I’m just being optimistic…
I never really liked lawyers. They always seemed like rich assholes to me. But this time, I feel like I have to try and be nice to one, because if I’m not nice, they probably won’t try and get me out of here. Then again, it’s all about winning the case so they could get more money.
I see my lawyer. I expected it to be a man. An old man, with white hair and a suit. But instead, it’s a woman. A young girl, even. She’s like around twenty-something. She has blonde hair, put back in to a pony tail, and pretty blue eyes. She has black rimmed glasses. She’s wearing a pretty black skirt with pink flowers and whatnot on it. She also has on a black sweater. She looks real pretty, real preppy.
“I know how I could get you out of here,” she tells me, and before I could smile, she adds something else…something that I don’t really want to hear. “But you are NOT going to like it.”
“What is it?” I ask, afraid to hear the answer, but wanting to know it anyway.
“We’re going to plead insanity.”
“But I’m not insane…”
“You have Aspegers.”
She points to one of her papers, and I nod.
“That doesn’t make me insane, you ableist asshole….”
“Do you want to get out of here or not?”
I just tell her I do, and let her do what she wants to do.
We end up seeing each other all the time. My lawyer and I. I don’t really like seeing her, to be honest. She’s too demanding. I never liked demanding people. Whatever though, I have to try my best to be nice to her and do what she says. After all, I do want to get out of here. Actually – let me rephrase that. I don’t just want to get out of here but I also NEED to get out of here.
Yep.