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The Chrysalis Pg.2, Ch.1
The morning couldnt come soon enough. Id just couldnt fall asleep in the unfamiliar surroundings so I spent most of the night staring out the window. Id had a lot of time to think and came to the conclusion I was going to try my hardest to get better. I didnt want to be like this anymore, in and out of emergency rooms, feeling sad and out of control. Thats the best way to describe it, out of control. I just couldnt explain how I felt or why but I was inexplicably tired and the only way I could escape it was to kill myself. I had a lot of feelings I couldnt understand and the only way to ever relax was self injury of some kind. They say its wrong, not normal. I just cant see it. Ive never been normal anyway. Its like in that Eels song, Novocaine for the Soul. Theres a verse that goes Life is white and I am black.. I cant help but relate to that, its how I f
The Chrysalis Pg.1, Ch.1
She hasnt said a word since we got out of the car. Its the worst like this, when she says nothing. I feel like she hates me and if she does she has every right. We walk down a wide hallway, following the red arrows on the walls. It sure does smell like a hospital, sterile and dark. Its cold in so many ways, not just physically and the off-white color that covers just about everything is enough to further darken my mood. We pass very few people on the way to our destination, which works to further give the illusion were travelling to some kind of dead zone.
Then we see it written above the door in red block letters, Child and Adolescent Psychiatric Unit. I hear my mother exhale loudly in an almost exaggerated sigh. The door is locked from the inside so we have to buzz in. My mother pushes a little button on the speaker box and we hear a voice.
Child and Adolescent Psychiatric Unit, how may I help you?
Uh, yes. Its Ms
EdwardThe beast wore a triangle on his head
They looked at him with disdain
He was a poet and a painter,
A hedonist and a chess player
You were England, 1875
Then you were famous
You hated the sound of your name
There was a Rose after The Equinox
You flaunted your 33 degrees
I saw you in The Golden Dawn
He said to the scribe
The Law was written
They all saw you, wicked mage
Thelemas gone, silver star
No more utopia in an ether dream
Dead weight and a rider gone by
Sixty-nine one-way science street
Poppy seeds forever sleep
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