Mental


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5. Chapter five

I kept running for a long time. It felt like I had been running for hours, but I had no way of knowing. Maybe only minutes.  I wasn’t running in any direction; I was just running. It felt nice not having to think or do anything for a person. I was just running. Then I realized that I was running away from my problems. That I wasn’t strong enough to face them, so I just ran away from them. I realized it, but I didn’t feel bad about running. I didn’t want to turn around and say that I was sorry. I needed to stay away from people. I was only going to hurt them. I guess the fear of hurting people were bigger than the possibility of me actually hurting people.  It was somehow always fear that won. I didn’t want to be afraid. I didn’t want to run. I wanted to keep fighting.  No matter how pointless it was. I wanted to be a sane person. I didn’t want to be a danger to society. They kept convincing me that I was, but they never knew exactly what was going on in my mind. I remembered crying in my room, the first week of my time in the mental-hospital. I didn’t want to be there. I wasn’t angry, I was scared. A woman came into my room. She had dark-brown hair and green eyes. She sat down on the bed and smiled at me. It wasn’t a friendly smile; it was just her lips moving a bit upwards.” I know you’re angry. I know that you’re sad, but you have to know that this is the best thing to do.” She stopped and looked at me, her eyes staring into mine. I was afraid of her the first years of my time in the mental-hospital.” You are a danger to society. “She kept saying.” There is a part of your brain, that wants you to hurt people and that part takes control.” I was listening to her. I wasn’t saying anything at all, but I knew she was right. I was sitting there as a scared ten-year-old girl and all I could do was listen. I didn’t want to cry or scream. I wanted to show them that I wasn’t a danger to society. That I was a part of society. I wanted to prove them all wrong.  I really wanted to, but I didn’t know if could.  There was always that crushing fear that I was a danger to society. That I was going to hurt people again.

I didn’t know where I was. I just wanted to go home, but I wasn’t quite sure what was home anymore. Sleeping and staying at a place for a period of time, doesn’t make it home. Maybe home isn’t a place, but the people you are with. I felt at home when I was with mom, but she was gone now. And she wouldn’t come back. Ever. The realization made me even more scared. I needed to find home. I needed to find a place, where I could be. A person that I could be with. My mind kept going back to Ryan. Hadn’t I felt like home, when I was with him? I was smiling with all my face, when I came home. Was that home?  I had only known him for less than a day, I told myself. Did it matter? Was home only home after a period of time? Should I just wait till I felt at home with dad and Jonathan. Or would it just never be? As the frustration crept upon me, I started to realize that no matter what home was I was nowhere near anybody I knew. I was somewhere outside of the neighbor-town called Lakewood. I didn’t understand, why I wasn’t the least bit tired after running. I should turn around, I told myself.

So I ran back again.

The feeling of running was very nice. Very comforting.  Like nothing could reach me. I wasn’t home, but I was somewhere else. Maybe the point was, that I was nowhere.  And that it didn’t matter. Right now nothing mattered.  I know that the second I stepped into the house again, everything mattered, but right now I wasn’t there. I was here.  Wherever that was.

I was right outside the house, but I didn’t go in at first. What would I do? What would I say?  Was dad home yet or was it just Jonathan?  I really didn’t want to talk to Jonathan. I remembered everything he had said.  Every last word. I kept hearing his speech in my head. You’re a lunatic who only got out of the mental-hospital, because they didn’t like you there. It wasn’t true. I knew it, but the words still hurt. I didn’t want to forget about the things he said. I couldn’t just ignore it, but what was I supposed to do? Go over to him and say that he hurt my feelings? I don’t think that would help at all.

I walked over to the door and stood there for a few seconds.  I took a deep breath and opened the door. I heard angry voices in the living-room. My hands were shaking, but I managed to close the door silently. Dad was talking with Jonathan. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, so I stepped a little closer. The floors were creaking, but I don’t think they heard it. ”I know this is difficult for you, but you have to try dealing with this better”, my dad said.  He tried not to yell, but you could tell that he was angry. I heard Jonathan sigh.” It’s not that it’s difficult for me… She hasn’t been here in six years. We haven’t had it easy these days, but we fought through and now she’s here. I’m afraid it’s all going to go to hell, because of her. “ The way he said her gave me goosebumps. He talked about me like I was a thing and not a person.  Definitely not his sister. I guess I wasn’t anymore.  Six years was so long. It had changed me, and it had obviously changed them too. Of course it had. When things like this happens to a family, things are never the same. I had thought that I could just be a normal teenager, but I couldn’t.  It wasn’t about me and what I had done the last six years. Their lives hadn’t been set on pause, just because I wasn’t there. Things had changed here and so had I. I hadn’t been gone for six months, it was six years. And somehow we acted like it was all okay. Dad didn’t talk about anything with me. He went to work before I was awake and came home late. Almost like he was avoiding me. Like I was a problem that he just needed to ignore until I went away.  Maybe I should just go away? Maybe I should just disappear. Their lives were1 better without me, I thought.  It was all better without me. Maybe it was a bad idea to get me out of the hospital, I thought. I found a blank piece of paper in my bag and started writing on it.

This is not a suicide note,

Suicide would be stupid,

It’s not what I want,

I’m not quite sure what I want right now,

I’m sorry that I’m here sometimes,

It would probably be easier if I wasn’t,

But as I said this is not a suicide note,

I’m going back again,

I think it’s best that way,

I’m sorry for everything that has happened,

I just don’t belong in your world,

I don’t fit in,

There’s only one person I really felt connected to and you don’t even know him,

I hope you’ll have a great life,

Please forget me,

 

It was depressing as hell, but it had to do. I taped the note to the door and knocked. Then I hurried out. I could hear footsteps approaching. I ran again. This time much faster and with a knowledge to where I was going. I was going back. I would never know if I really was mental, but it was best that way. I just needed somewhere to be and though I had hoped better for myself, but this was my story. God just didn’t want me to be a happy person. I didn’t blame him. I couldn’t. This was just how it was supposed to be. I had thought there was hope, but there wasn’t. I was forever a danger to society.

 

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