Mayra Avina on Being Institutionalized
"So everything is getting out of hand," says my psychiatrist.
Take 25mgs of this.
Take 75mgs of that.
Take 5123132184651mgs of my bullshit.
Anyway.
Derek brought me flowers. He forgot all about them and left them in his messenger bag. He greeted me with a big ol' smile and placed four wilted roses in my hand. How romantic. (Seriously.)
Moving on.
Seriously. I'm running around Vancouver and Portland filling out job applications and packing things into little cardboard boxes.
By the way.
I'm not sure how I ended up being the girl at the bus stop bombarded by questions from strangers. "What's your name, pin cushion?" and "Want some candy, little girl?", all of which I'll answer "NO(!)" and dig around in my tote bag for my pepper-spray.
Imaginging shooting unsuspecting pedestrians with my paintball gun and jumping back and forth between state-line borders have become my favooooorite things. Next to writing weird things, of course.
Take 25mgs of this.
Take 75mgs of that.
Take 5123132184651mgs of my bullshit.
Anyway.
Derek brought me flowers. He forgot all about them and left them in his messenger bag. He greeted me with a big ol' smile and placed four wilted roses in my hand. How romantic. (Seriously.)
Moving on.
Seriously. I'm running around Vancouver and Portland filling out job applications and packing things into little cardboard boxes.
By the way.
I'm not sure how I ended up being the girl at the bus stop bombarded by questions from strangers. "What's your name, pin cushion?" and "Want some candy, little girl?", all of which I'll answer "NO(!)" and dig around in my tote bag for my pepper-spray.
Imaginging shooting unsuspecting pedestrians with my paintball gun and jumping back and forth between state-line borders have become my favooooorite things. Next to writing weird things, of course.