Oopsy. I Started a Cult.

"Let go of my arm, Trey!" I screamed into his face.

He wouldn't budge. I could fell his cool, peppermint breath on my neck as he inched to hold me tighter. I flapped my other arm around trying to hit him but it was no use.

"TREY!" I screamed louder, hoping that someone would hear me. I was hysterical now, black mascara flooding down my face and lipstick smeared like blood. I tried to drop to my knees but I couldn't.

"You're hurting me! HELP!"

He wrapped his other hand around my face to cover my mouth in an attempt to muffle my screams.

"You need to calm down, Bethany," he said, trying to soothe but instead adding fuel to my blazing flame.

"Don't tell me to calm down! DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!" I screamed repeatedly as if in a trance.

"Bethany," he continued, not budging on his grip. "Bethany, please," he continued to insist.

"My name is NOT Bethany. I am NOT Bethany. My name is BETSY. B-E-T-S-Y. BETSY. Should I repeat it again for you?" I seethed.

"Ok, B-E-T-S-Y," he continued on in his soft voice, clearly trying to hide the irritation that lurked behind it. "Are you ready to calm down and cooperate?"

I dramatically collapsed against him and he fell backwards, losing his grip on me.

"Now that you have those giant ape hands off me, I am ready to cooperate."

He looked defeated as I rolled off of him and plastered myself on the floor like a starfish.

"Do I get to see the doctor now?" I asked, wiping tears from my face on the gross, industrial carpet and absorbing the calmness that Trey had tried to display. I thought he might cry and I thought I might feel bad for a minute, but I didn't. "They don't pay you enough for this shit, do they?"

He let out a snort and laughed. It has to be hard dealing with multiple mentally ill people at their nutsiest. Probably makes "normies" feel a little nutsie also. I started to laugh too. I had no clue where my mind was, and honestly, I still don't know if it came back the same this time. Trey left the room to get the doctor now that I had stopped screaming and throwing my body against the walls. Laying here, alone on the piss smelling floor gives me a chance to introduce myself.

Hi, my name is Betsy and I am locked up in cuckoo town after a bad trip with a bottle of over the counter sleeping pills. Thus, the reason that douche canoe orderly was calling me Bethany. Only frat boy f-boys are named Trey. I was born Bethany, and the people who named me were sadistic fascists who deserve to rot in the prison they are held in, so instead I adopted the name Betsy and it fits me much better. They call me Bipolar Betsy, or BB, because that is what I tell them to call me. They all think I have magical superpowers and I have made them believe it. I can feel the highest highs and the lowest lows without a single drug in the world. That's how I ended up with this oopsy. I don't worry though, they still worship me.

See, the thing is, they try to pump me full of their meds when I'm here, and I usually end up here every year. I think I have had 15 trips in 10 years? Not to brag or anything, I know it's a real big accomplishment. I don't want their meds though. They can have their mood stabilizers, anti-psychotics, SSRI's, and benzos. I want to fly, and why shouldn't I?

My followers don't know I'm here, how could I tell them I tried to kill myself. Can God kill herself? Itself? Himself? Am I really a fraud? I'm probably a fraud. Can a fraud really, truly feel like God? I mean...

It actually all started as a joke between my friend Nate and me. I was deep in a manic episode, and I made the comment about feeling like God.

"What does that feel like?" he asked.

"It feels like the stars aligned in order to create you, and that you are God's greatest gift to this earth and all of humanity. Why shouldn't I feel like that, Nate? I am special, the world just doesn't know it yet, but they will. They will worship me."

"Worship? BB, I think that is a touch extreme," he laughed.

"Is it though? What if it is true, what if I am God reincarnated. Natey, could you imagine? I can feel it, so it has to be real, right?"

"BB, I think you are getting a little ahead of yourself."

"No way. Toss me my computer."

"What are you going to do?"

A Cheshire smile spread across my face as I created a group called "THE CHURCH OF THE REINCARNATE." I started with a few little posts about myself and my powers. How I could talk to the dead and knew the past, present, and future. I started telling fortunes and reading tarot cards. Each time I created a video and soon I started to get a few likes here and there. The more I posted about my "proof" the more people started to like my page and believe in me. I couldn't believe it. I'm not just a cult leader, I'm mother f-ing God."

"I'm God, Natey!" I squealed into the air. Within months I had thousands of followers and by the time my first year rolled around, my page reached 40,000 followers. Some were there to troll and mock, but I couldn't believe the amount of people that were eating this up. The more they wanted me, the more “power” I got. This was the first time in a year that I had been off my meds. I had been a stable, boring, shell of myself on them. I felt like they drained my soul. I could literally feel them draining my soul. When I finally got off of them, up I went and I never stopped going up.

“BB, don’t you think this has gone too far?”

“You saw the video where I tried to tell them that this was all mental illness and that I have bipolar disorder and blah blah blah?” I rambled on.

“Yes, I did… but…” he stumbled over his words.

“I tried, ok. I tried, Give me a freaking break. You know what? Make your dumb ass useful and go get me some sleeping pills. I’m exhausted. I haven’t slept in weeks," I whined. It's like having a full tank of gas no matter how far you drive. The lack of sleep was starting to eat at me. Day by day, the more I became “God,” the deeper I fell.

Natey came back with the sleeping pills and he found me a few hours later incapacitated from taking the entire bottle and ta-da! Here I am today, at the mental hospital, visiting my old friends that want to take my powers away. My followers need me. They need their God, and I owe that to them.

There was a quick knock on the door and it opened before I even had the chance to open my lips to speak.

“Bethany, I haven’t seen you in quite some time,” the doctor started.

I instantly rolled my eyes, picked myself up off of the floor with a groan, and found a place against the wall to rest by body. I didn't have the strength to pull myself into a chair, but I did have enough to scream at him.

“My name is Betsy. BETSY. B-E-T-S-Y!”

B-E-T-S-Y.

"Ah, that's right. Betsy." he uttered, barely above a whisper. "So, Betsy, I see here that you think you may be a god? Is that right?

"You mean that I am God?" I asked as seriously as possible.

"Do you believe that you are God?" he asked in a truly serious fashion, now examining me closer to see if I was bullshitting him or if this was real.

"I don't have to. Over 40,000 people know that I am."

I could tell he had no clue what I was talking about and this brought a new, sick little smile across my face. I love when I hold the upper hand.

"You haven't seen my website? My group? My following? This isn't a grand illusion, doc. This is real, I am real, look it up. Seriously Google "THE CHURCH OF THE REINCARNATE."

I could tell through his years of experience he knew I wasn't making this up. He was truly curious, like a child making his first discovery. I winked at him so he could feel validated.

"Can I go take a nap now?" I grumbled with a yawn.

"Yes, yes go ahead. I am going to go look into your "church"" he mocked with air quotes.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Suite yourself."

I dramatically made my exit by army crawling my way back to my room. My tiny little white room, with white walls, white trim, white metal framed bed with crisp white sheets. The only splash of color were the dull gray blue hospital socks and a matching blanket my guess is to attempt to bring warmth to such a cold room.

Time for shut eye. Catch you on the flip.

Your girl BB