It felt like the ugliest kind of love.

a hug for show,

a demonstration to the neighbors.

a voice I found,

but learned was not mine.


adolescents was for learning,

I learned how to cope With

what those meds didn’t handle,

I certainly did that on my own.

of course, my ways of coping are/were “unacceptable”.


the first mental hospital I was in was torn down.

i went and took a piece of it after and almost got arrested.

years later, I tattooed with a guy that’d been there too…

Nevada, Missouri. Heartland hospital.

They always name them things like that; non-threatening.

i wasn’t even cutting yet.

my room mate was twice my age and half my weight.

being underage, I was surrounded with behavioral and problematic CHILDREN.

all joking aside, “I threw myself out of moms car because she wouldn’t give me a sucker…”.

thats what our groups were about In there.

they even had a mixer for the inpatients and residential patience.

a cute residential patient asked me to dance…

not even a minute into the song, before I could even speak to him, he said,

“I’m going to throw up” and jetted off. Granted, I have a PhD. In psychology, but even now, I can’t explain why or how, but that moment set me over that teetering point. the one that I was on and trying to decide which direction to fall. Yep, as stupid and trivial it is, a residential patient I’d never see again, picked it for me.

ive put up photos, I know I’m not hard on the eyes, but I can’t look at mirrors, lose enough weight, study enough fighting styles (which is just as ridiculous, since I’m a Buddhist), tattoo enough of me, you name it…I can’t change enough. I will probably never be able to, because at that precise moment in my development, all I wanted was someone, anyone,to give a shit without being related to me or medically obligated. I think I was 12.


I’ve been looking for groups out here, not AA or NA, Because let’s face it, i would only be looking for connections. But I’ll be damned if I can fine one with someone besides me, under 60…discouraged. So I cut. I not happy about it, I’d made it a year. But fuck! What’s the alternative?


the groups out here are geriatric. Normally, I adore the older crowd. 

However, when I’m there with ice dripping down my legs,

since that was recommended by a therapist to detour the cutting,

but all I’m hearing is that one man telling us all about his med complaints,

then the other person there, a woman, complaining that she’s getting old…

one has to wonder if one in is the correct place…


“is this the mental health group?”

“yes, do you have a diagnosis you’d like to share?” Answered the “leader”.

“not one, specifically, but I have several diagnonsenses I’d be delighted to share…”

“please take a seat”…says ‘her’.

by the end of the hour I’d received zero help for my reasons for attending…but I’d dished out more information than the doctors seeing them had. So, I suppose, I helped them…but I couldn’t wait to get home, be alone, burn some ganja, and reflect. I just want to know why I don’t get paid to sit in these groups. If they don’t help me emotionally, maybe the should financially.


im sure I have some more pretty words coming out soon. I just need to gather myself first. I’m…_______________________.

(fill in the blank? I’m open to suggestions).