The halls are filling with patients I can hear their feet stomping. One by one they shuffle their way down the halls. The ones that can that is. None of them mine of course. No of course not they belong to my subordinates. All those long nights. All the studying. All the work to be at the top of my class. What a waste of time. No, I get the special ones. The ones chained down, the ones that most of us can only see through glass and steel. But why am I telling you this? Talking to myself. I might as well be locked away with them. I need. I need to get this all out. Before I end up on the other side of the glass. We all have our reasons for being here. Locked in this place.
I am here to make sure they get “better.” Help them, cure them, but there is no cure for crazy or deranged or homicidal. So all of my education, all of my time is nothing but a waste. I get to pretend to be the very thing I call myself. The title I have earned, Doctor. Head Doctor of Psychiatry at a state run asylum to be exact. I get to pretend that I can make them all better. Trapped in purgatory with the monster who will never see the light of day again. God damn it. I just want to leave this place. Trapped in my head. Trapped in place. Day in and day out. When I close my eyes. All I see are their faces smiling back at me. They should be put down. Put down like the animals that they are. One way trip to the pits of hell. But that’s not humane is it? That’s not right. Not in this day and age of medicine. We can help them.
What a joke. A broken idea stabbed into our brains. Not all of us were born equal. Not all of us deserve to live. All those long hours, all these long days, this endless life time, and that is all that I can come up with. Kill them all. Let the devil have his play things back. Not good enough. Not the solution we are looking for. “Do we need to replace you with someone better?” Better than me? Someone better than me can administer the same test with the same results. Would it make the difference to help these monsters? Question my very existence in this world. Driven crazy by the very people who I have entrusted me to heal. Nothing. Surrounded by the madness and the endless cycle of nothing. The nothing is pointless and unavoidable. The fact that nothing I will ever do will mean anything. That’s the part I can no longer take. Life here is an unknown mystery with the same outcome.
Welcome to the Alabaster Behavioral Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Yes, when there is no more room. Welcome to hell.
So this was that project I was talking about… either last week or the week before… I don’t know… the days bled together after awhile… Hopefully I can keep up with it… this week I will be posting three parts to it… after that I will be posting a new part every Wednesday… and filling in the days with Broken Thoughts… poems… the usual stuff… trying to change things up… taking a chance on this story… maybe I will talk about it more later… okay I will be talking about it more later…