Dear K;

They let me have a pencil today. A pencil, something that seems so simply to a normal person, someone who isn’t me in other words. I don’t even know if they will send this out for me. They’ll think I’m asking for drugs or a razorblade. A razorblade sounds good right now, but I shouldn’t say that. That’s what got me here in the first place. Speaking of which, how long have I been here? I’ve been on and off meds that keep me sedated for what seems like a lifetime and then some. Someone told me I screamed for three days straight. Odd, I don’t remember that. They also said I punched a nurse so hard I broke her nose. That explained the teeth marks on my knuckles. I wouldn’t recommend getting into a fistfight, the after effects are probably worse than the actual fight itself.

I have nightmares. I can’t remember them, but they scare me. I can’t figure out why either. I think it’s the meds they have me on, totally fucking with my brain. They make me see things, I think, or think I’m seeing things when I’m really dreaming. It’s hard to separate dreams from reality. I never have been able to perceive or recognize which is which even before I was brought to this place. I see to be in a moderately stable state of mind today, I must be, they gave me a pencil.

Last night, a girl tried to hang herself using her bed sheets. Obviously, it didn’t work. I started to laugh when I found out. I couldn’t stop laughing. Someone told me I was being cruel, but how stupid can someone get? Try and commit suicide when the emergency room is a hope, skip, and a jump away. The best way to do things would be to hide and stay away from all until the job is done. Not in a place where they check on you every few minutes. I think I laughed because of the irony of it all. She was put here to keep her from committing and then when she gets to a place that is supposed to be safe, she commits. I might be the only person in this place who finds that funny.

I wish I remembered why I ended up here in the first place. I don’t remember a lot of what happened lately and that’s what really fucking me up. I don’t know what I did or if I hurt anyone. I’m fairly sure I hurt myself since I don’t remember those scars on my arms, but even that I don’t remember and that’s so scary. I wish I knew what was going to happen to me, I wish someone would come and tell me what’s going on, I wish people in this damn place would stop tip toeing around me as if I was made of glass. It’s really starting to get me. I think I might explode soon if I don’t get some answers. They are withholding information from me; I want my fucking lawyer. Then the excuse would be that the information would be too much for me to handle and that it would be unhealthy for me to hear it. At this point, I don’t even care anymore. I just want answers; is that so much to ask?

Evidently it is. I hope you come to see me soon and I hope you come with answers. What did I do to end up here? Why am I stuck in this hellhole? Why is everyone so afraid of breaking me? And why the fuck they won’t let me have a pencil.