I'm getting a little hazy. I'll have to come back to this one.

admission, p1

     It was June. Jessica had arrived at the hospital per the instructions of the psychiatrist. The sun was shining down on the campus and the parking lot was as full as always. Hospital staffers would hurry along on dedicated pathways between buildings in ones and twos. The light was faded from her eyes, but she had that spark that would not die. She hiked up her backpack of clothes and walked up the steps and under the archway towards the main unit. To the right and left, the mauve brick and brown doors of the  wings surrounded her. her footsteps and the distant sound of traffic filled her ears. To her left, the glass wall of the cafeteria came up... the outpatient office on the right, visitor's entrance on the left. And now she had reached the glass sets of double doors that was North Wing. They were expecting her, she had been told. 

    They came and let her in, the admitting nurse, a nurse by the name of Frank, a muscular man with dark skin and a tattoo. Light blue scrubs. As she entered the unit she saw many patients there. Other nurses walked around in their light blues, techs in the navies, red scrubs were... docs? I don't remember... patient observers navy blue... the nurses station had been put behind plexiglass years ago, to the right was Southwing, then to the left the hall leading to the rest of the unit. Behind the nurses station was the old children's unit, converted into IMU... Intensive management unit. The pharmacy room was ahead and to the left, a supply room to the left, and the old kitchenette area which no longer had food was ahead and to the right with a door leading to the courtyard with its tall wooden fence and cameras. All the doors with the key card locks. South wing was geriatric. The "rest of the unit" consisted of about three therapy rooms, some offices, a gym, some bathrooms, the cafeteria, the visitors area, and the old fireplace room. 

PIM

    Time for some reverse psychology. This should be fun. I love screwing with people. Since they keep inviting me back, I'll do an imaginary hospitalization. That way it can go perfectly, and the insurance won't even have to be involved. Let's see... we'll have all of the me's there. all 8. even numero ocho. Jess usually gets things started. Or should we make it more interesting? I've got an idea. They like to talk about this "danger to self or others." Let's be both. Oh wait. #1 doesn't qualify for the adult unit. sooo... 2-8. Oh I've got an idea. Perfect. I think 5 has OCD. I wonder if I can remember the schedule? probably not. 

    Let me pick out some staff... there's krystal... we can call that guy Rick... there's red... Kat? ... i can call him Frank... I don't remember her name... we can make her a heather... Arson, small... I'll add an angela... let's have a melissa... we can have a Kyle... let's do a weekend... I'll put a Jo in the cafeteria... I just want to see how realistic I can make this... Ah, Anna... can't have a hospitalization without Anna... I'll let Elle be on vacation. I'm gonna let them be short staffed. Maybe Kenzie can rotate in. Oh. rec ther... Let's make her a tammy... gonna fictionalize a bit. 7 me's... i'll put 7 in IMU. 8 will be near southwing with 4. 2 and 6 can be on the other hall... finally, 5 will be near IMU and 3 will be between 8 and 5. Ok, we'll all ready to be recommitted... in absentia...

How it Ends...

    So, I guess I don't qualify for FDIA because I have, in fact, had mental illness. But the way I figure it, there's a few ways this could end for me.

1. I prove to be such a public embarrassment that either my family (not likely) or the hospital system (becoming somewhat likely) says fuck it, we don't want to play anymore

2. I die

3. DSS or law enforcement intervenes (yeah, right)

4. certain people seek counseling voluntarily (not likely)

5. I cut off contact with my family and use Bon Secors if necessary. (Becoming likely)

6. I move away (not financially possible)

    Otherwise, I will be highly medicated and always get the blame and they will always try to fix me. I just don't know how they will ever be happy. We've been doing this so long. I've been through so many hospitals. It's just ridiculous. I am the one they couldn't perfect. Oh well, back to keeping up appearances. I've got a headache and I've been nauseous with all this. I just don't understand the purpose here. I mean, I guess it works out well for them for now, until the next hospitalization. It's hard to see how there won't be another one. These people never, ever give up. 

    I don't see how it just goes away or gets better with the dysfunctional social relationships still alive. Theres no drug, support group, treatment program, center, or hospital that can cure half of a disease. You gotta treat the whole thing. Im still young enough that I could have a life. Unless im just completely out of touch with reality. In which case im truly screwed. Because they've tried to help me. And its not getting better as far as I can tell.