I was in the hospital. It was a long journey getting here. Did I need to be here? I don’t know.
If anything it was sleep deprivation that got me here. A weekend spent with friends on Plum Island.
Excessive drinking and drugging. Driving four hours with white knuckle gripping through snow storm.
Inadvertently taking an antihistamine as a hangover cure. Sleeping on the floor in a down sleeping bag, sweating all fluids from my body. Not knowing what to do. Not knowing what to do.
My parents and sister and friends coming to my aid. Not knowing what to do.
Me role playing Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Acting angry and aggressive, scaring everyone.
Bloodshot eyes, no eating or sleeping. Being placed in a room with another kid who was banging his head against the wall until he bled profusely. Leaving my own pain to help him with his, to no avail.
Deciding I had to get out of there, after my family finally left me there for some peace of their own.
I dressed and headed out. Another kid said, “Man, you better look out for the heavies if you’re leaving.”
I had no problem , being a “Heavy” myself. No one was going to fuck with me.
I walked six miles back to my parents’ house, arriving at about midnight. They looked at me as if they’d seen a ghost.