They gave him the Redwood Room. It's right across from mine-the Pacific Room. Pretty peaceful in here most of the time, long as my meds are on time.
Ha. Get it? Most of the time, if my meds are on time. If you don't get it, you've never been in a place like this, never hung tough from one call till the next.
Wasted. That's the only way to get by in this "treatment center." Nice name for a loony bin. Everyone in here is crazy one way or another. Everyone.
Even the so-called doctors.
Most of 'em are druggies.
Fucking loser meth freaks.
I mean, if you're gonna purposely lose your mind, you want to get it back some day. Don't you? Okay, maybe not.
I Lost My Mind A long time ago, but it wasn't exactly my idea.
Shit happens, as they say, and my shit literally hit the fan. But enough sappy crap. We were talking drugs.
I won't tell you I never tried crystal, but it really wasn't my thing. I saw enough people, all wound up, drop over the edge, that I guess I decided not to take that leap.
I always preferred creeping into a giant, deep hole where no bad feelings could follow.
At least till I had to come up for air. I diddled with pot first, but that tasty green weed couldn't drag me low enough. Which mostly left downers, "borrowed" from medicine cabinets and kitchen cabinets and nightstands.
Wherever I could find them.
And once in a while-not often, because it was pricey and tough to score-once in a while, I tumbled way low, took a ride on the H train. Oh yeah, that's what I'm talking about.
A hot shot clear to hell.
I Wasn't Worried About getting hooked, though I knew plenty of heroin addicts.
I didn't do it enough, for one thing. Anyway, I figured I'd be graveyard rot before my eighteenth birthday.
It hasn't quite worked out that way, though I've got a few months to go. And once I get out of here, I'll have a better shot at it. Maybe next time I won't try pills.
I mean, you'd think half a bottle of Valium would do the trick.
Maybe it would have, but I had to toss in a fifth of Jack Daniels.
Passed out, just as I would have expected. What I didn't expect was waking up, head stuck to the sidewalk, mired in puke.
Oh yeah, I heaved the whole fucking mess. Better yet, guess who happened by? You got it.
One of the city's finest.
Poor cop didn't know what to do-clean me up, haul me in, or puke himself. So he did all three, only dispatch said to take me to the ER.
Hospital first. Loony bin later.
Also by Ellen Hopkins.
Crank.
Burned.
Impulse.
Glass.
Identical.
Tricks.
Fallout.