(no subject)
It's been awhile since my last update.
I haven't been able to get to a computer for some time now.
I was just released yesterday, from the California Medical Facility. Which in short a Pysch ward. The same place they keep serial killer Edmund Kemper. Splended.
Although, I didn't have the oportunity to meet him, since I was bound to my gurnie in a padded room the entire time, pumped with drugs to control my thoughts and to keep me "sane". They say I'm a threat to myself. Maybe to others. What do they know. They haven't lived my life. They don't know what I think/feel. They think they know me, who I am, that they can relate. All because of the stupid tests they succomb me to. Since when do black splats on a white paper decide wether or not I should be hospitalized? Bullshit, I tell you. So, they say I'm depressed. and write me a prescription for anti-depressants. and another drug to control my mood swings. They are also making me go to therapy 3x a week. After they saw the fresh wounds about my arms and thighs they decided to keep me longer. that's why they strapped me down to the bed. they felt that I couldn't hurt myself that way. and they were going to give me the "cold turkey" method. They treated me like a heroin addict. They also clipped my nails back, so I wasn't able to stratch myself. They are also sending a nurse to my house to "check up" on me 2x a week. To make sure I'm taking my meds and to check me for cuts. Shes such a happy, giddy person. It makes me sick.
I haven't been able to get to a computer for some time now.
I was just released yesterday, from the California Medical Facility. Which in short a Pysch ward. The same place they keep serial killer Edmund Kemper. Splended.
Although, I didn't have the oportunity to meet him, since I was bound to my gurnie in a padded room the entire time, pumped with drugs to control my thoughts and to keep me "sane". They say I'm a threat to myself. Maybe to others. What do they know. They haven't lived my life. They don't know what I think/feel. They think they know me, who I am, that they can relate. All because of the stupid tests they succomb me to. Since when do black splats on a white paper decide wether or not I should be hospitalized? Bullshit, I tell you. So, they say I'm depressed. and write me a prescription for anti-depressants. and another drug to control my mood swings. They are also making me go to therapy 3x a week. After they saw the fresh wounds about my arms and thighs they decided to keep me longer. that's why they strapped me down to the bed. they felt that I couldn't hurt myself that way. and they were going to give me the "cold turkey" method. They treated me like a heroin addict. They also clipped my nails back, so I wasn't able to stratch myself. They are also sending a nurse to my house to "check up" on me 2x a week. To make sure I'm taking my meds and to check me for cuts. Shes such a happy, giddy person. It makes me sick.