At the mental home, every scent, sight, every touch..was a constant reminder of whats its like to be different.
I remember gliding on the linoleum floors and smelling the scent of dead skin.
I didnt think I was crazy..but once everyone tells you your something, you start believing it to.
I had couseling everyday from 4 to 5.
I didnt show up usually..until they said It was required..like that made a difference..but to please them i went and nodded and occasionally said a few words.
What did the know about me?
Why couldnt they just leave me alone?
Im fine on my own..and guess what...I have been for a while