I felt like I had been imprisoned here, incarcerated against my will. I didn't need to be here, but they didn't agree- so they kept me in the white, sterile confines- under the careful observation of the nurses, making sure I came to no harm. They had destroyed my privacy, searching me and removing anything I could damage myself with.
Other patients sat in their rooms, at the moment I was too scared to talk to them, preferring to watch the standard television, a mixture of individuals- some rambling, others with red welts marking their arms where the anxiety had caused them to self destruct. There was a sense of desperation in so many of them, that things had come to a crescendo and they had reached crisis point, finally ending up in the safety of this place.
The doctors room was clean, smart and as sterile as the rest of the ward. I sat on a couch, not wanting to look at her, not wanting to talk to her, questions were asked and I tried to keep my answers short, not committing to anything.
How did I end up here? Not crazy, sure I had hurt myself... but so do many others. I had taken a knife to my arms, that doesn't warrant being locked up, that doesn't mean I should be punished... does it? Did I deserve to be here, deserve to be stuck away from my friends, away from my family?