Status: Active
Crazy
Meet Chloe
My mom always warned me about crazy people, she said they were a burden to society and better off dead. What a great woman to grow up around. My mother was obsessed with crazy people, but not in a good way. Nut jobs was all she talked about, warning me to not end up crazy.
Maybe thats why my father took a plunge over the deep-end.
When I was 16 he was put in an institution for crazy people, and we never spoke of him again. I'm 23 years old now, that was seven years ago and it still feels like it was yesterday.
Men came up in a white van. They were in white suits and requested to speak to my mother. I remember watching as her face went from a sweet face to stone. Mother wouldn't look at my father, and when he bugged us to visit she hissed, "You are no longer our family."
It's ironic how a lady who hated crazy people ended up producing two nut jobs.
"You are not crazy Chloe, just confused." Dr Carls said.
"Doc, you've been trying to get me to open my trap since day one at this shack now let me finish."
She wrote something down on a yellow notebook, the one that went into the folder with my name on it: Chloe Bonte. As soon as she was done scribbling down whatever she felt she needed to write she nodded for me to continue.
"It's funny because I am crazy and my mother despises crazy people, yet she's the one paying for me to be at this nuthouse.
I really didn't know I was crazy until I actually got here. I thought it was normal for people to daydream about death, I didn't think there was anything wrong with me. And honestly, looking back, I think everyone's crazy, it's just who wears their crazy on the outside.
I see why my dad went fruity also. He wasn't the main bread winner. My mom was the CEO for a big company and she was the one that brought home the bacon.
Funny, huh, a women that actually made twice as much as her husband; that would drive any man insane.
The day my dad "left", as my mom calls it, she bought me a Maserati, just what a 16 year old needed, a racing car.
It was as if she could bribe me to keep quiet what happened, and it worked; I never told a soul except Craig."
"Tell me about Craig." Dr. Carls pressed.
A smile formed across my face, "Oh Craigery Michael Owens... for a boy like that there's only one place to start, at the beginning....
Maybe thats why my father took a plunge over the deep-end.
When I was 16 he was put in an institution for crazy people, and we never spoke of him again. I'm 23 years old now, that was seven years ago and it still feels like it was yesterday.
Men came up in a white van. They were in white suits and requested to speak to my mother. I remember watching as her face went from a sweet face to stone. Mother wouldn't look at my father, and when he bugged us to visit she hissed, "You are no longer our family."
It's ironic how a lady who hated crazy people ended up producing two nut jobs.
"You are not crazy Chloe, just confused." Dr Carls said.
"Doc, you've been trying to get me to open my trap since day one at this shack now let me finish."
She wrote something down on a yellow notebook, the one that went into the folder with my name on it: Chloe Bonte. As soon as she was done scribbling down whatever she felt she needed to write she nodded for me to continue.
"It's funny because I am crazy and my mother despises crazy people, yet she's the one paying for me to be at this nuthouse.
I really didn't know I was crazy until I actually got here. I thought it was normal for people to daydream about death, I didn't think there was anything wrong with me. And honestly, looking back, I think everyone's crazy, it's just who wears their crazy on the outside.
I see why my dad went fruity also. He wasn't the main bread winner. My mom was the CEO for a big company and she was the one that brought home the bacon.
Funny, huh, a women that actually made twice as much as her husband; that would drive any man insane.
The day my dad "left", as my mom calls it, she bought me a Maserati, just what a 16 year old needed, a racing car.
It was as if she could bribe me to keep quiet what happened, and it worked; I never told a soul except Craig."
"Tell me about Craig." Dr. Carls pressed.
A smile formed across my face, "Oh Craigery Michael Owens... for a boy like that there's only one place to start, at the beginning....
♠ ♠ ♠
From my quizilla