I'm Not Who Everyone Thinks I Am
43.
They give me the pen in the rec room.
It's shiny.
And sharp.
I'm sitting in a chair, playing with the pen between my fingers, liking the smooth feel of it.
One of the employees looks pointedly at me, then the paper.
Calm down, lady.
I'm just looking at this pen.
I could hurt myself with it.
If I really wanted to.
I do really want to.
I could drive it in to my arm like a knife, make a hole there, and just keep going.
But see, then I would never get released.
I need to satisfy this itch...
Just not today.
With a heavy heart and an aching hand, I begin to fill out the form.
I have more willpower than I thought.
The lady is smiling happily at me, proud of my internal struggle and the victor of it.
Maybe she'll tell someone how good I am, and I can get out of here.
I finish the form and get up to hand it to the woman.
I hold the pen a little longer, and she has to pull to get it away from me.
But she does.
And I walk away, slowly, feeling the burning in my hand.
I have itches I cannot scratch.
It's shiny.
And sharp.
I'm sitting in a chair, playing with the pen between my fingers, liking the smooth feel of it.
One of the employees looks pointedly at me, then the paper.
Calm down, lady.
I'm just looking at this pen.
I could hurt myself with it.
If I really wanted to.
I do really want to.
I could drive it in to my arm like a knife, make a hole there, and just keep going.
But see, then I would never get released.
I need to satisfy this itch...
Just not today.
With a heavy heart and an aching hand, I begin to fill out the form.
I have more willpower than I thought.
The lady is smiling happily at me, proud of my internal struggle and the victor of it.
Maybe she'll tell someone how good I am, and I can get out of here.
I finish the form and get up to hand it to the woman.
I hold the pen a little longer, and she has to pull to get it away from me.
But she does.
And I walk away, slowly, feeling the burning in my hand.
I have itches I cannot scratch.