Chapter One

The fishiness of her eyes helped me stumble upon a fishnet to prevent any form of human fear. But I am too small and fall through naked on the sidelines. There is no help for someone who is willing to die, there is help for those who are going to die. I have been looked at with exactly these shaky smiles, you might be crazy they don‘t say but I see you, don‘t worry. Waking up in delirious minds of breaking free dancing to a lousy Dylan song but all I hear is a benzo here and a benzo there. Welcome to a kinder hell where they want to help you really as long as money flows through mafia disguised as life saving meds to build relationships. Fuck people fuck as long as you can breath but don‘t fuck with them because that is what happens to you then. I stand up to talk to the doctor warning me about my misbehaviour in the past. You were not good enough but don‘t give up my dear there is so much light to look forward to. And if death wishes last then just sit through it. You might as well enjoy it. I do with Lou Reed and Lorazepam. Oh my dear, cut him out in little stars and he will make the face of heaven look so fine that all the world will be in love with apathy and pay no attention to the garish sanity. We lunatics suffer, too. Why are Mammuts not alive? These driving and inspiring thoughts dip through my veins as oh my god Lorazepam vanishes all my sufferings. I think I am starting to believe in God. Thank you Jesus for my sins because now I can take heavenly pills to remind you how very helpless I am.

Chapter One

The cry of Clara who solely talked to Clara was outrageous on a beautiful afternoon. Smell of smoke was unavoidable when all these poor sods had nothing else to do. Trash tv, cans of coffee and Clara now laughing because she found a can of deodorant in the bathroom which was strictly forbidden here. When I arrived they took everything that looked as if it could harm me. I know how harmful a cup of got coffee can be. They didn’t care. My boyfriend left me. He brought me here and left me. No warmth, no good bye, just good luck. I was angry when I stepped through the doors because I knew they would never let me out again. The usual “don’t give up” seemed ironic now that they had given me up. I would never smell woods, see the beautiful colours of a fun fair, listen to the sound of waves, feeling snow on bare feet, seeing flowers grow in Spring. I would die in a fucking nut house. We had many patients like Clara talking about anything. Some attacked others for cigarettes. Everyone fought fir cigarettes. Some were nervous the whole time. One girl believed in the power of cleansing, an older man starred quietly into the empty rooms of this eighties-built complex. I walked into my room and met my last partner in life, a person who barely talked to me and then only to remind me of dining times. If people on tv talked of horrors done to people it always seemed like people were ready to fight. But for us there was no one because we were nobody. This place particularly is for the ones who are not allowed in heaven or hell. There is no space, no time, no rules in here accept for slowly disappearing. I would die in a fucking nut house.

Olga shouted news in Russian. She found no way of explaining her classy acts of harmful advices. Her husbands were Italian mobs she smiled as she calculated the next date for soviet attacks. She might have been a Doppelagent. Clara who changed her name into Agnes this time replied in Polish. I ate a leaf of bread drenched in Nutella. The nuthouse was ugly but surrounded by sounds of change. Construction workers ran around half naked presenting their summer bodies. I was prepared and ready to attack back by showing my scars. Talking to a lunatic was weird because there was no way of guessing what their next move would be. My therapist said better to experience this so that you will never end up here again. I bet he spend years of perfecting this joke. People seem funny here when the worst attempt of contact to a patient is to say how beautiful the hairs been done. Thank you, I replied cautiously, you never know what they really think of you.

Yvonne was a bomb. Not in a good way. She reminded me of the Hulk, wearing green clothes and finding ways to make you feel very little. The perfect bully. She told us how she missed her two horses and was thinking about getting another one. When someone told her she didn’t line horses, Yvonne went nuts. Agnes got on well with Yvonne. Agnes was back to Clara and really scared of ger father. I mean who wasn’t in here? Yvonne probably was the most scared. Still I felt little when she was near me. When I first saw her I was scared to death. But I thought isn‘t it just too funny how someone could scare me wen I wasn‘t scared of death? So, when she shouted at me I shouted back. We never talked to each other again.

You made me ill, too but it never slipped a mind it was set in motion you set to see a fall but then up. And up. But down. And up. Yes, there was a room for someone who was disgusted by a stream of consciousness and yet, here we are. I dreamed a lot of skating girls with strong legs, my god I wish I was one of them. Olga‘s blue eyes are deep and they tell something I am too afraid to write. I am too afraid of noises judging and handling it. I am handling my benzodiazepines because today I am proud to announce I am lost with pr without you. But not lost in a theatrical sense, I like to take long walks by the beach and watch sunsets and horse asses. I am in a dream and I sing beautifully but annoyingly enough to those standing close to me. There has been a way but now that it‘s done, I‘m done.