This was my audition piece for
On the Brink. I believe it was luck
that got me in. You may believe
differently. Either way, tell me
what you thought or think. And
BE HONEST!!!! I cannot stress that
enough. Oh...and thanks... :)
lambchop101@hotmail.com
Everyone says that it will get better soon. Everyone says that I am here to get well. They say that I might hurt myself, and that is why I must always be watched. They say many things, but I am not convinced.
I have lived in the hospital for three months now. I have walked through every hallway and know every permanent patient. I can tell you where every ant pile in the garden is. I can tell you many things, but I cannot tell you why I wish to die. I am not stupid. I have always gotten A’s. I am not pregnant. I am still a virgin. I come from a good family. They have always supported me. I do not have an abusive boyfriend. My boyfriend is very sweet. He is probably the best boyfriend in the world. This I hear from everyone else. They tell me that I have always been surrounded by love.
Yet there is something wrong. Something inside. Some call me a psycho to my face. Some just talk about me behind my back, as though I can’t hear. I do not care. In fact, I don’t care for many things. I do not care for my boyfriend. I do not care for school. I don’t care for many of my friends. I don’t care for life.
I used to, though. Things like that used to matter. I just see things different now. I see…the little things. I see how the curtain will move ever so slightly when the air conditioner is on. I notice how the nurses always come to the right side of the bed. I see how the ants will crawl over each other if they are in a hurry. And I tell my parents these things. I tell my friends these things, and they will nod there head and agree…but I know they don’t agree. I know they don’t understand.
I cannot explain it. This thing. I don’t know how it happened, and I don’t know why. I just know that it did. I used to question it. I used to question why. I would ask God why He let this happen to me. But I don’t anymore. I do not question why, but I do wonder. I wonder about it while I walk to the nurses’ station. I wonder while I am watching T.V. I wonder as I sit, staring into space in the garden. I wonder at night. Especially at night, staring out the window as I lie in bed, I cannot help wondering.
The nurses and my parents and my friends, they all tell me to keep busy. They want to keep me busy so that I will not think about it. They are constantly suggesting that I do this or that I do that. The nurses bring me to the garden wand walk around with me. But I wonder as I walk. My parents bring me books, millions of books to read. But I will read a phrase or see a picture and I will wonder. My friends will talk endlessly, about people I used to know or things that happened that day. And I will listen and then fade them out and I will wonder. Sometimes, I will wonder about how the world wouldn’t be better if there was world peace. Or I may wonder about simple things, like why butterflies only come out when it is warm.
I will wonder about many things, but I always wonder about leaving. The walls close in on me. The walls—they’ll suffocate me, and then—I can’t-(sruggling for breath)—I can’t—I can’t think!
But everyone says that it will get better soon. Everyone says that I am here to get well. They say that I might hurt myself, and that is why I must always be watched. They say many things, but I am not convinced.
OR
Travel even further into Mary's Mind...
