<< Coarse Line >>
June 06, 2004, 5:38 p.m.

My memory is sliding down a hill in a metal trashcan, and yet one would think it would be tumbling instead of sliding.

Tis a wonderful yet ironic moment to have with me, the flashbacks of biting down on the rubber ball, no wait, not a ball, but a mouth piece made of rubber. It was like clamping my jaw on a small portion of a blown out tire on the side of a highway.

This may seem confusing, I know it does, but really it is very simple. I was given ECT-Electric convulsive Shock Therapy. For those of you who have never been introduced to such a controversial concept or perhaps former event, I will divulge.

Every week I would get up at eight in the morning. Do some ritual stretches and thinking, and try to remember why I was in a pretty white room covered in a stiff mattress. Then the thought settled before me, I was an outcast of society, and therefore cast into eternal white hell.

These many hidden hospitals, all sharing the common burden, had to keep a uniform image. This image being the the light shade of blinding white painted on any surface found. Even the toilet bowl was fresh and bright that one's feces was never seen. The staff was an army of light dresses, the details few, and there was something lacking from most of these nurses' attire. They never wore any jewelry just in case an inmate were to try to kill another with the gem of a wedding ring.

For those who were allowed out of these walls did not know what they saw, but only played the part to provide an income to their happy, shiny families. Most of them cowered in fear, but hid any emotion, excluding happiness. A mile of pearly fangs were always bared, and was probably a requirement of the job. They thought we would instantly turn around if by perhaps, social learning, we could become happy monsters again.

Now about the ECT...

They forgot to clean this mouth guard before inserting it into my mouth. I could taste the small flakes of blood, once dry and dormant and now full bodied and flowing. I evolved into a four legged animal, struggling to taste more, but soon the needle was inserted into my hip, and the poison surged past the stoplights and into my nervous system.

Unfortunately, this shot did not weaken my mind and my consciousness. I had to be awake for what was about to come. My entire body numb, I was only a head, a balloon about to be pumped with lightning. Laughter spilled out of my face with the thought of how insane this procedure was. Why waste precious energy on a soul like myself? Why try to inflate my balloon to the size of a buick? These white nurses were sadistic, and I was never going to escape their pleasure for my pain.

Here she was. A nurse with rancid breath,(hey what do you know.. the white paint could never enter the inside of these people), hovered above me, and smiled in routine. She asked the doctor if the machine was ready, and he nodded. I liked the doctor for he was the only one without a forced grin.

My temples were trembling as the doctor placed two objects to my head. A high pitched sound filled the room, it became a full blown concert, but then released its fury into my skull. My brain scrambled, no thoughts, no pain, only noise that bounced in unison into my chambers. No wonder they call it electric-convulsive.. for convulsing is what my entire person did, and it wouldn't stop even after the the current had passed.

This would happen in sets of three. After the third, they would unstrap my body and carry me to a dark room. There they gave me a few pain killers, and let me sleep until my body could move itself again. This was my favorite moment for all the electricity was exiting my body in waves, and a swell, the mighty tidal wave, always collapsed around my genital region. A wonderful time for "private" adventures, but sadly, I couldn't move my limbs.

After two hours and fifteen minutes, the door would open, and a nurse would aid me to my lovely abode. There the next door was shut and locked, and I had to live with my bones twisting, and my mind melting around me.

No "sane" person knows how this feels... to be in prison for one's mind not being set to the right dial. All would love to forget that we exist, and that is why hospitals are built in forests and abandoned factories. For it is inhumane to watch the suffering, but okay if they are all in cages and white rooms. We are dogs, and no one will adopt us. Thus experiments turn, and we are the playdoh.

There are periods in which I want a lobotomy, to be a vegetable, and stare into nothing until I exhale my last breath into freedom.

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