In The Asylum Is Where We Play

"When you realise ou need help, it doesn't mean that you're weak. It means that you are tired of living the lie; too fatigued to battle on alone. You can no longer swim through the shame that threatens to drown you. And that there is nothing for the secrets locked deep inside to feed on. It's a moment of pure strength. It shows the strength of the human spirit." 

I used to wish that someone would lock me away. I wished that someone would strap me down and shovel a cocktail of pills down my throat. They would send shock waves through my body, setting off the detonators in my mind and with any hope, propel me away from this destructive force. I fantasised that the doctors would unhinge my head, pull out the old damaged wiring and replace it with new. They'd sew me up with a big needle and place me in a white room like they do with all the other damaged creatures. I would never have to worry about being alone again.

The nurses would whisper sweet nothings in my ear while they brushed my hair. They would paint my lips and eyes with beautiful colours. They would wind up the crank in my back and teach me how to walk again. I would be their porcelain doll-their creation, nothing short of perfection. They would braid my hair, weaving in pastel colours. We would hold hands as they walked me through the enchanted grounds, basking in the sunlight. I would sing and dance in the rain, allowing my makeup to run down my face. I could scream and cry without having to worry about anyone caring. The nurses would bring me inside and run a warm bath for me. The pink and purple bubbles would glitter in the candlelight as they submerged me in the water. The heat would wash over me and I would emerge reborn. 

Once I was washed and polished, they carefully dressed me in the palest green silk pyjamas and spoonfed me tea that washed away the bitter taste of sadness. They would give me little pink pills that weighed down my eyelids and set off fireworks in my brain. Before they'd blow out the candles, they would kiss my forehead and recite ancient prayers that keep demons away. Whilst under the influence of the pills, my mind wandered to acres that were unfamiliar, thrilling and terrifying, but were wonderfully vibrant. 

Skeletons danced around me and roses fell from the sky. Fish perched in trees and birds swam through the seas. The grass was a sea green and the sky a dull purple. Cupcakes grew from the Earth and eerie faces peered out from the trees. As the poison drifted through my veins I felt like I'd never felt before. Clocks melted into the ground and time became nothing. The world spun faster than I could have ever imagined and icy air attempted to freeze my insides. A woman with brilliant red hair emerged from the gumdrop forest and took my hand. Her mouth had been sewn shut and her eyes were sad. Her stockings were torn, but her saddle shoes were polished and clean. The black of her sundress was like unlike any shade of black I'd ever seen. 

She led me down a path of blood to a large stone castle. Once inside she brought me to an enormous library, stuffed from ceiling to floor with books. She gestured to a large leatherbound book in the centre of the room. Thrown her sewn mouth, a raspy and haunting voice broke forth. "Beyond the human-stained lies lay the answers to your questions. I can only guide you on your travels, I cannot help, only watch." 

Before I have the chance to open the book, sunlight blazes through my eyelids. It's morning once again. I awake with a throbbing headache, but thankfully I know it will be dulled by my first chemical cocktail of the day. The nurses hand me a paper cup filled with a rainbow of pills- some red, some orange, some teal, some lilac. I swallow the rainbow and wait for them to bloom in my stomach. The brush my hair and assign me an outfit for the day. They bring me to the dining hall where they force waffles and strawberries down my throat. I beg them not to, tell them I don't want it, but they ignore my protests. They stop only once the plate is clean, smiling at me, "Come." They pull me up and guide me through great glass doors.

The scenery from the dream greets me as we pass through. The grass is wet with morning dew. I look up to see the lilac of the sky turning a dark and unforgiving grey. The nurses don't stay. They offer me robotic, cheery waves before drifting back inside through the doors. I watch as they lock the doors with great bronze keys. They fade into a bizarre pinkish mist and I can only stand paralysed. I don't know what to do. I've been dreaming for far too long. I suppose this is reality. Footsteps in the distance wake me from my trance like state. I turn to see that it is Death himself who's wanting to visit with me. His hooded robe is frayed and torn. His scythe gleams despite the darkness. His bony hand is caked with decaying flesh. 

He places a black velvet choker around my neck, his cold hands lingering on my collarbones."I want you to be the one." He whispers to me. Before I can ask him what he meant, I turn to see that he's vanished. The coolness of his touch lingers on my skin and in the air. Ravens call from their nests and wolves howl in response. Some of the gravestones are covered in moss. The vegetation and destruction does not distract from its calming beauty.  The grey sky threatens to cry. Bile drips from the trees. I lay beneath an oak tree. The overgrown roots surround me like a mother's arms do a wounded child. Frogs croak a haunting melody. This isn't  a challenge, it's a suicide mission. I'm not sure if it's Death's work or my emotions, but it feels as if I'm being suffocated. In my condition, it's possible that it might be both. I grow more anxious. I cannot wait until the sun is defeated by the moon. My heartbeat sounds like claps of thunder in my ears.

I'm electrified and ready to excursion. I lash my wrists just like I was told to do and exhale the relief as the brilliant red linger begins to pool. Death appears and bends to drink. Tea leaves emerge from the wounds. I don't know what's happening. I scream for the nurses. Death remains silent. The nurses do not come. My voice fades into the cold air. A quiet voice tells me to pull the leaves out. One by one, like a trail of silk scarves from a magician's hat they emerge. When the leaves stop appearing, fear rises up inside my chest. "What have I done?" I sob to my loneliness. My heartbeat is slowing. Death kisses my cheek and tells me that I have done so well. "Welcome to the land of Drama Kings and Suicide Queens."