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Description
     "Time for your pills dear," a lovely nurse told me. I know it's only her job, but something inside of me just got really pissed off at her.
     "Fuck the pills," I screamed. I don't know why I was so angry with this particular nurse.
     "Oh, come now, these pills will calm you down," she coaxed me. She was like the hook and I the fish. I wasn't buying it.
     My knuckles throbbed, but it was all worth it. When my fist came into contact with her face, I just felt so in control and powerful.
     "I was j-just doing my j-job," the nurse sobbed, while the blood dripped down her face. The dripping blood looked like red tears. Tears of blood.
     "Why did you punch the nurse?"
     "Why didn't you want your pills?"
     "Why are you so angry with the world?"
     Why? Why? Why? That was all the police and therapists could ever ask: why? They feel powerless when something happens and they can't figure out all the answers. I got up and left the room. I could hear shouts behind me.
     "Hey, stop! Where are you going?" The shouting followed me into the hallway.
     "What're you going to do now?" I heard someone ask. "What were you feeling when you hit the nurse?" These questions were typical and pointless. The police and therapists bothered me. Everyone bothered me. If I hadn't punched the nurse no one would care what I was going to do next, so why should they now? It was overwhelming having people swarm around me and ask question after question. My therapists didn't tell them to stop though, they fired questions at me like everyone else.
     I wasn't stupid; I knew that my therapists didn't want to help me recover. They just wanted answers. Answers they could never understand. For you see, I couldn't answer their questions, even if I had wanted to. I didn't know the answers myself.
     "Nut Case Patient Punches Nurse"--now that's the kind of headline that I'd want to see. you could read an article like that and think, 'Oh, so I am normal.' Insane people are put in this world to make the "sane" people of the world feel like they actually are sane.
     In most  cases though, it's the other way around. How can you ever know for sure whether you're the sane one or not? You can't. The rest of the world judges you and decides; if they decide you're insane, then you're locked up whether it's the truth or not. People like everyone to be alike, so when you're going against the current, the river works hard to make you go back the other way.
     I knew the only way to get out of this place was to let myself be corrupted. I had to conform to scoiety's ways.
     "Why did you punch the nurse?" my therapist asked me for the 20th time.
     "I was frustrated. I felt like I was better, but no one else agreed and I felt trapped," I replied, fully aware that I was just B.S.ing my way out of this nut house.
     "Hm... We all know the feeling of being trapped at some point of another," my therapist thought out-loud.
     "What are your plans for your return to the outside world?" my therapist asked me.
     "I plan on going to college. I think I want to be a writer," I answered her. She tapped her foot against the white linoleum floor; thinking.
     "Yes, you could do well in college if you would just be like everyone else," she said.
     Normal-adj.-Conforming with, adhering to, or constituting a norm, standard, pattern, level, or type.
     "I just want to be normal," I said sorrowfully, as I dabbed at a fake tear in the corner of my eye. In my head I spat, 'Normal? Normal!? There is no way I could ever be 'normal.'
     "I think you're ready to leave us here at the hospital," my therapist said as she wrote something down on her brown clipboard.
     "Are you serious?!" I asked with great excitement.
     The therapist pushed her black framed glasses further up on her nose as she said, "You seem to have the right ideas for when you leave and seem like you can stand on your own two feet. You have been extremely good at listening to our rules as of late."
     I am the same person that came into this mental hospital, but I'm leaving. I smiled into the sunlight as I stepped through the glass doors of the hospital. They can never really change me.

Description
     "Time for your pills dear," a lovely nurse told me. I know it's only her job, but something inside of me just got really pissed off at her.
     "Fuck the pills," I screamed. I don't know why I was so angry with this particular nurse.
     "Oh, come now, these pills will calm you down," she coaxed me. She was like the hook and I the fish. I wasn't buying it.
     My knuckles throbbed, but it was all worth it. When my fist came into contact with her face, I just felt so in control and powerful.
     "I was j-just doing my j-job," the nurse sobbed, while the blood dripped down her face. The dripping blood looked like red tears. Tears of blood.
     "Why did you punch the nurse?"
     "Why didn't you want your pills?"
     "Why are you so angry with the world?"
     Why? Why? Why? That was all the police and therapists could ever ask: why? They feel powerless when something happens and they can't figure out all the answers. I got up and left the room. I could hear shouts behind me.
     "Hey, stop! Where are you going?" The shouting followed me into the hallway.
     "What're you going to do now?" I heard someone ask. "What were you feeling when you hit the nurse?" These questions were typical and pointless. The police and therapists bothered me. Everyone bothered me. If I hadn't punched the nurse no one would care what I was going to do next, so why should they now? It was overwhelming having people swarm around me and ask question after question. My therapists didn't tell them to stop though, they fired questions at me like everyone else.
     I wasn't stupid; I knew that my therapists didn't want to help me recover. They just wanted answers. Answers they could never understand. For you see, I couldn't answer their questions, even if I had wanted to. I didn't know the answers myself.
     "Nut Case Patient Punches Nurse"--now that's the kind of headline that I'd want to see. you could read an article like that and think, 'Oh, so I am normal.' Insane people are put in this world to make the "sane" people of the world feel like they actually are sane.
     In most  cases though, it's the other way around. How can you ever know for sure whether you're the sane one or not? You can't. The rest of the world judges you and decides; if they decide you're insane, then you're locked up whether it's the truth or not. People like everyone to be alike, so when you're going against the current, the river works hard to make you go back the other way.
     I knew the only way to get out of this place was to let myself be corrupted. I had to conform to scoiety's ways.
     "Why did you punch the nurse?" my therapist asked me for the 20th time.
     "I was frustrated. I felt like I was better, but no one else agreed and I felt trapped," I replied, fully aware that I was just B.S.ing my way out of this nut house.
     "Hm... We all know the feeling of being trapped at some point of another," my therapist thought out-loud.
     "What are your plans for your return to the outside world?" my therapist asked me.
     "I plan on going to college. I think I want to be a writer," I answered her. She tapped her foot against the white linoleum floor; thinking.
     "Yes, you could do well in college if you would just be like everyone else," she said.
     Normal-adj.-Conforming with, adhering to, or constituting a norm, standard, pattern, level, or type.
     "I just want to be normal," I said sorrowfully, as I dabbed at a fake tear in the corner of my eye. In my head I spat, 'Normal? Normal!? There is no way I could ever be 'normal.'
     "I think you're ready to leave us here at the hospital," my therapist said as she wrote something down on her brown clipboard.
     "Are you serious?!" I asked with great excitement.
     The therapist pushed her black framed glasses further up on her nose as she said, "You seem to have the right ideas for when you leave and seem like you can stand on your own two feet. You have been extremely good at listening to our rules as of late."
     I am the same person that came into this mental hospital, but I'm leaving. I smiled into the sunlight as I stepped through the glass doors of the hospital. They can never really change me.