FicWad

Hey!
If you're still reading this story so far, you're my favourite. No really.
Sorry for all the filler I've been writing so far, but its pretty essential to the plot.. But have no fear! It will definitely become more intense soon enough.
Rate and review!
xoAlex


It's been three days since I was let out of the white room.
Three days of silence.
Three days of hell.

Every day is an eternity.
Every day is the same.
Every day I find myself wasting away to nothingness, staring at clocks, counting down the hours and hours until I can finally go back to sleep.
Every day feels longer than the last, and every night I welcome more and more the feeling of sweet unconsciousness that only sleep can provide.
The beautiful feeling of nothingness, in which I can deny my entire existence- if only for the brief hours before sunrise. Before another day dawns and pulls me back into the sterile timetables of reality, a reality I always wish I could avoid.
But in those sweet, sweet moments of sleep... I'm timeless.

Every day begins the same.
I wake up, lonely and exhausted.
I have breakfast alone in my small corner of the cafeteria. A corner avoided by all other fellow lunatics and invalids apart from myself.
Then I report to the doctor who shoves pills down my throat and forces me to swallow.
Pills that silence the voices.
My only friends here.
The pills are the reason for my complete and utter loneliness.
Nobody comes to visit me.
Nobody stops to smile at me or give me a moment of their time in conversation.
And I prefer it that way.
After the pills, is group therapy, where I sit in a circle with the other crazies and ignore them as they discuss their problems.
Then I sit and count down seconds and minutes and hours until private therapy with Dr. Schechter.
Such "therapy sessions" usually just involves one-sided conversation on his half, and brief periods of silence in which he studies me with careful and practiced eye before scratching down rapid notes in my files.

Once I'm released from that one hour period of insanity, the day blurs into numbers and minutes and faces I never really see, and voices I never really listen to.

Then sweet unconsciousness pulls me under once again.

And then the whole cycle begins all over.

Days go by, outside the thick brick walls that constrict me.
Just outside those walls, people are living normal lives, going to normal jobs, with normal friends, and normal families.

But it's not like that here.

In here.. We're anything but normal.

There's no room for sanity in a place designated for those who have lost it all.
It's a cesspool of mental disorders and madness.
We're the vermin of society, locked away and forgotten about.
We rarely get visitors from outside.
I don't blame them, really. I mean, who actually wants to know a crazy person?

So we just move along, day after day, not really living, but barely surviving in this hell that we call home.

Spending long hours just gazing out between the bars on the widows. Savouring the brief taste of reality and sanity that exists just beyond the bars.
Watching the mentally stable living their lives, happy and ignorant to those like us who can't even do that.
And in those few moments.. We can pretend we're normal.
We can pretend that the strict schedules and regulations that control our lives don't exist anymore.
For just a second of time, we have family and friends and a job and a life outside these walls.
For a second in time, we're normal too.

But then buzzers sound and we're ushered away to the reality that we're anything but.
We're monsters.
And the only taste of normal that we'll ever get is the view from between those bars.

And then we simply live our lives in the painful reality that is Greystone Park. The home of hundreds just counting down the days till we die.
And death just can't come soon enough.

This is life inside Greystone Park.
This is the only life I'll ever know.