My Time in a Mental Hospital

by Alaina Allee about a year ago in sad poetry

May 2017

My Time in a Mental Hospital

I miss being shoeless for so long

I would always be able to hear the pitter-patter of my own feet everywhere I walked

every memory of my childhood

I was barefoot

when they took my shoes from me

it brought back memories from my childhood

they asked me why I was smiling

& automatically my smile disappeared for the rest of those days

& as i’m shown my room I noticed the vastness

still, I tried to make myself cozy

I noticed the shelves on the wall

(trick yourself into a distraction)

I noticed the only thing colorful in that room was a dark green comforter

(at least it's something, right?)

I noticed the bars across my window.

(well.. that's unsettling.)

I felt a giant pain tear through my body, & saw my life pour out of me onto the floor

while I collapsed & shook & cried & panicked

I stopped to breathe for the first time

I can hear everyone's feet pitter-pattering across the cold floor in the hallway

& this room won't ever begin to feel cozy no matter how hard I try

“so, you're suicidal?” was my alarm clock that afternoon

I was half asleep through the evaluation but I didn't mind

(I’ll never get out of here anyway)

I was taken to breakfast for food that I ended up crying into

& I was sent back to a room that I had to share with another girl

I started writing letters i’d never show anyone

I was in a mental prison

(i’m scared)

I was surrounded by people i didn’t know

(i need to get out of here)

if anything, my time there made me feel worse

(anywhere would be better than here)

it wasn’t the stereotypical mental hospital

nobody was becoming a vegetable or rocking back & forth in the corner

it wasn’t anything scary

other than not knowing when you could leave

how people would treat you once you left

if you would actually feel better

or if you'd have to fake it to get out

I will never forget the day i left

I could wear my shoes

I saw the sun for the first time in 4 days

I felt the december weather cold on my arms

I didn’t even care how cold it was

I was free

& I miss being a child again

I could be shoeless by my own authority

I could share a room willingly

I could look outside my window without trying to find an angle to see around the bars

I wish i could say my time in a mental hospital helped

but honestly

I’m only holding on so i never have to go back

may. ‘17

sad poetry
Read next: I Am A Bullet.