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Where did you go?
I wonder honestly where my dad went. How he was out of touch with reality and sent from a hospital to a house, and we all cut ties because talking to him would…I’m tired to vent.
Because I actually like talking to my dad about his theories, and his religion. I actually would tolerate his There watching me, watching you, fake news, real news- opinion. I enjoyed when he would say
“jazz, it’s your father”
And now no one talks to him, so I don’t either. My mental health is fragile, as a lizard is pale.
And seriously, department of mental health, might be jail, incarcerated minds walk freely in Jonny’s and psych ward socks, a few days later there eyes clear up, and then you can talk.
When someone is walking in their scars it s hard to talk to them about yours. But, psych wards have stars and words written on the walls, at least mine did, I made sure to write something in the walls- in toothpaste so it glowed in the dark. Those friendships we make, see you on the outside- almost like Shawshank, if you make it look me up, ignore my trembling hands when I shake yours, on the outskirts of the psych where we first landed.
Where did you go? I ask myself, my true self- cause I don’t know. #Depression #PsychWard
