Mental Hospice pt. 1/2

Come, my children. Sit, and let me tell you a story.

The time I went to a mental hospital.

I don't have much time, so I am splitting this story in two.

So, it all started around February. This one kid was bugging me, mocking everything I did. I felt like exploding, and I wanted to kill myself. I told my mom about some of my "plans", including leaving that kid a bag of papers saying "you were the reason." Harsh. But telling my mom was a stupid idea. She told my dad, and then she told the guidance counselor. The counselor told us to go to the ER, who then sent me to Riversedge Hospital.

That night, I was kept awake, waiting for the counselor to get to the Er, then for an ambulance to take me to the Hospital. I didn't sleep until 2:00 am that night, they kept me awake to read and sign a number of documents. And yet, I was one of the first few awake the next day. That next day would be one of a few I hate to this day.

It was when I met her.

Her name was Rheanna, and she was one of the cutest girls I had met. She sat by me, and I began to sweat from nervousness. I guess she noticed that, because she introduced herself. I then told her my name, and she called me cute. I did the same to her. We talked the rest of that day. My first friend there.

The next day, I was allowed to leave the "unit" to go to the cafeteria for lunch. We talked there, and even touched feet under the table. I felt... I don't even know how to describe it. It was just... right. At dinner we did the same thing. Then again at lunch. She said at lunch that 2nd day that she was leaving that day. She was right. I have her my number, asking her to text mr when she got home. I was then excited for the rest of my stay there. Unfortunately, others saw how we had hit it off, so they made fun of me for the rest of my stay.

The food there was pretty good. We went down to the cafeteria on weekdays, it was closed weekends.

But what about the real reason I was there?
How did they help?

Answer:
NOT AT ALL.

I only got out because I didn't seem like I would jump out a window again. Because I was allowed to forget about life. Nobody talked to me. The "therapy" was just generic relaxing. No help at all.

I got out the Tuesday after St. Patrick's Day 2012.

Next part: after I got out.