I imagine pushing her down and banging her head on the wall.The feeling of my fingers against her throat as she chokes.The pure rush after breathing in the metallic scent of blood on my own hands.Standing there feeling proud,accomplished even at my own handiwork.I imagine the desperation,the needy whimpers that come out of her mouth,pleading for me to stop but I continue doing the deed until her pulse weakens.And suddenly all of it stops.A heavy silence descends and I leave her among the daffodils to sleep in peace.

Heavy breathing surrounds me and I realize its mine.I have been having this dream ever since I came here.This place does bad things to my imagination.Here it runs wild even though we are surrounded by tall brick walls.I have a small window to my room.The view is an elm that has branches with velvety moss.I imagine a rope hanging there.A nice end with wind blowing you as long as you can ignore the walls.I used to have a roommate.Pretty little thing with big brown eyes.She chose the elm as an end.I was angry that I hadn’t though of it before.Then came the sobs and as the tears rolled down I could see everything covered in blood,my own.After that the orderlies strapped me to the electric chair.It hurt I suppose but I didn’t feel it after a while.There was this strange numbness that overtook me.

I want to know how it feels.The blood gushing down your wounds.I just can’t place myself feeling any pain but giving it to others. I was discovered strangling the neighbor’s bird.It was a peculiar sound, sort of gasp and then the silence. I was pleased but they caught me.Sent me here to the room with a view.They try to hurt me,control my impulses.They say it’s not incurable but I’ll be here for a while now.

They don’t know yet what happened to my sister.She is still lying there in the wild flowers next to the river I guess.They never found her,they never suspected me.They had a search carried out for months but with no result.I hope they find her one day.Decaying and rotting,gazing into the oblivion.




It is dark already as I step out of the house,there are no stars in the sky,just dim yellow moonlight.I walk past the light of bright florescent flash signs and the movie posters.Its a long walk to the center but the way back is going to be difficult.I personally never enjoyed walking but this is necessary.Looking as inconspicuous as possible is one of the only ways to avoid getting caught.I’m just another eighteen year old who is on the way to buy his weekly batch of hallucinogens.Today it is my turn to go fetch them.I meet the guy standing at the back alley,slip a few bucks in his hand and start my way back.The excitement is killing me already.

Now don’t start freaking out,its a totally normal thing.They say at my age,its completely okay for people to try out new things like alcohol,drugs etc.Who am I kidding anyways?I’m addicted to trying out new things now.I’m addicted to lysergic acid diethylamide otherwise know as LSD.It all started the night of my seventeenth birthday.It was supposed to be a dinner with my girlfriend of four years but she dumped me because she just”fell out of love with me”.Yes,that’s a thing.Falling out of love.So I called up a few of my friends I had not met in months.We decided that the only way to get over her was alcohol and a few magic pills.It would set everything right.It would make me forget and take me to the place of the ultimate Imagination;the wonderland.Slowly the one time thing turned into a monthly thing and now its a weekly ritual.The nostalgic tribute to that one night Mr.OHnoINeedToGetOverHer finally was set free.

The whole experience is magical indeed but then there are the blues that set in.The struggle you have the next morning after the so-called psychedelic experience.I’m so used to having this altered reality,the place where objects glow like the light-sabers,the slowing down of time,colorful bursts of light when the music is blasted out loud.The overall feeling of euphoria fades away to me finding myself in some dark corner of my mind.My social life is next to zero now.This troubles me from time to time.The fear of finding myself alone has come alive.I face it everyday.I want the addiction to go away but it won’t.Its going to be there with me for a long run.It can’t stop.At times I don’t want it to stop.

This doesn’t make me bad person.Like they say “Its just a phase”,it will fade into nothingness sometime,just like I do when I’m high.




I spend most of the nights,turning and twisting in bed,chasing sleep and barely after an hour,I wake up unable to stay put and relax.My curtains are always closed,the room has to be dark even in daytime,light irritates my eyes.My door is always closed,the only time it opens is when someone comes to check in on me.I’m always in bed,a thick blanket eloped around me in the most claustrophobic manner.The AC is always on,the room clinically cold and clean.My bedside drawer has numerous bottles filled with tablets and pills, now half empty.The most fascinating thing are the shapes and sizes and the colors of the tabs,my very own rainbow.The blue small pills to reduce headaches,the green round pills for reducing panic attacks,the white ones to induce sleep,the pink capsules for alleviating stress.

The doctors say I have clinical depression,social anxiety.At first they tried therapy,homeopathy and finally psychotherapy. They consider me a project,something to work on,the one that is ‘difficult case’.It all actually started from my parents divorce,two very ambitious individuals,finally ending it after 10 years and walking separate paths.I have had issues since i was 11 years old and they got into full bloom after I turned 19.A few failed visits to a mental institution or as they say”nut house”,my parents kept me at home.They barely even visited me twice a day.All my friends visited once a week or so.Many were scared looking at my hollow eyes,some stopped visiting slowly with excuses  such as tests,homework,girlfriends,parents,school etc.I understand their fear,reluctance.If I were them even I would get scared and stop.I want to stop actually,living is tough especially when your mind is foggy most of the times and you swallow at-least 5 pills with every meal.

I have started writing letters now.All of addressed to important people in my life.I think i have had a lot of unexpressed emotions,I would like to let out.The letters written to my parents highlights their ignorance towards me,the letter to my best friend tells the truth about her ex boyfriend and me.The letter to the boy I loved is in a fragrant envelope with a zip-lock pouch holding a pendant he’d given me.There is a paper listing all my prized possessions,mainly books to be given out to various people.A tiny goody bag for my cat.Hopefully everyone will remember me as I was before the illness took toll on my brain.I have been hoarding the antidepressants for weeks now,under my mattress.I have calculated and taken in consideration all the risks.Now all I need to the courage to swallow the pills,do the deed.A part of me is scared of the aftermath,the mark my action will leave on everyone. I know it’s selfish but it’s the right thing,my only escape.I will finally find my peace and the emptiness will fade away.

I hope they bury me in a pretty dress.