Wednesday to Monday, March 12-16, 2008; Day 1-6
Not as interesting as Day 7 and 8 to specifically write about.
Or were they? I don’t know or remember or care.
Not right now, anyway.
Maybe I’ll tell you all about it one fine day, face to face (mainly because I distrust technology more than ever now), as scary as it might sound right now. Just be sure to remind me, especially about the characters I mentioned previously.
Because it’s not about me in the end. It’s about you. 
Fat Tuesday, March 18, 2008; Day 7
1:00 a.m.: Fuck, this is too early.
4:10 a.m.: Staying here is bad for my sleep.
4:30 a.m.: There is so much one can do while walking to and fro for nothing in particular on an empty corridor.
7:43 a.m.: Breakfast. Finally.
9:00 a.m.: Excellent rumor goes that I’m released today! It’s been a week since I got here. Someone said the world is made in seven days; Jesus walks again?
11:00 a.m.: I think that since I’m going to be released, it will be pointless to fill out the menus for meals. The Atheist (a male nurse, fyi) then gives me the brilliant idea to “circle everything on the list”. Following his half-serious note, I leave a note saying: “This is my order :)” and then realize how ingeniously stupid I have been. Immediately, I add: “I’m sorry! It’s just a joke!”
The asshole.
12:30 p.m.: The chauvinistic pig Doctor lied to me; I am not freed, yet. Apparently, up till yesterday, I scared “everyone” with my “ideas” so much that “they” literally wrote me off as “insane.” According to a fellow patient, my therapist “was almost crying.” I guess this is what happens when you have too much fun and take things for granted. The Doctor then advises me to play the game right, or something like that.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” I politely ask.
“Sure,” He replies with a hint of apprehension.
“Do you really believe in what I tell you? Please don’t do me any favor.”
I really cannot be any more serious than that.
“Well,” He pauses. “I believe that you believe in what you believe.”
And that’s when I know that he is a lost cause. There is no case to begin with, as far as this man is concerned, especially because to him, it’s probably merely a case between a doctor and a patient, one of the many “delusional” ones. It is role-playing after all.
It’s funny how sometimes, the truth can scare people so much. Only God knows why they’re so afraid. I mean, come on now, why would one spend so much energy trying to keep someone they think is “insane” in the same building they’re in for such a long period of time?
Well, at least I know exactly what my therapist wants to hear now.
4:05 p.m.: The therapist has been exceptionally late for 30 minutes. I try to reason that she has more than 50 patients who are more important than me at the moment and this should not have anything to do with our lack of eye contact when we pass by each other.
4:35 p.m.: This session of ours went comparatively well. After 168 hours of insanity, I suppose I can survive another 24 hours.
10:00 p.m.: Things I have done to fend off boredom spend time productively:
1. Begged The Boyfriend’s evil voicemail to make him call me.
2. Bribed Best Guy Friend with $18 taxi fare to come visit me in this hell hole at 5:45p.m. tomorrow so I can bitch gossip about the Matrix system, the Doctor, bitchy nurses, my therapist(s), the Fat Oversize Blonde, and the Crazy Old Hag Lady.
3. Hung around the front counter to listen to the construction next door so to avoid the Dayroom at the end of the hallway (where I’m supposed to be at) and restore some inner peace because I can hear the Crazy Old Lady whining about expressing how she wants to go home already.
4. Watched half of Home Alone and one third of Lord of the Rings with The Oversize Blonde, Retired Policeman, and Ex-Tank Driver.
5. Read an extra five pages of the last Potter book. I’m still working on it and no spoilers, please and thanks.
Yes, it was that bad.
10:30 p.m.: I hate it here.
–
Post notes
Two words:
1. Still alive
2. Still okay
3. Still whatever
4. Not dead
Sorry, that was eight words (and more) and four sentences or five.
Now, two/three sentences:
1. J is still alive and okay and will return to whatever “normal life” means to you, ASAP.
2. God is the idea that is truly honestly dead; Nietzsche is right all along.
P.S. You can either think that J is pure genius or pure madness or half of each. You can never be impartial about her; not completely, at least.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008; Day 8
There is no Day 8.
And she lives happily ever after.
I’ve just realized how confusing the recent posts can be (or almost all previous abstract posts too, whichever way you like). Here’s what you can believe to be definite, right now:
1. The author was insane for a while.
2. The author is actually sane all along.
3. It’s like how people can view Jesus: you can either call him a genius or a madman.
4. Fact remains that during the recent long hiatus(es), the author was held captive by the evil head nurse(s) of the moment(s) in a/the psychiatric unit(s) that goes by the pseudonym(s) of “Crisis Control Unit” and/or “Stress Care Center” in the local hospital, for “drug-induced psychosis with a history of bi-polar.”
5. Whatever that means. Basically 16th of March happened here because the author borrowed the hospital’s kickass Compaq tablet computer. Hah.
6. Some of the evildoers people responsible for holding her hostage thought she was “insane;” some did not. Hence, the confusion is the author’s various attempts to contact civilization.
7. Ultimately, everyone is entitled to their own opinion.
8. Perhaps, one day, the author shall tell you the real story(-ies) in person.
9. Just mind your heart and let the truth sink in Silence (one of the best teachers of Life).
10. One more clue? Well, the author is obviously alive and kicking.
Beatles forever. Word.
