She is an outcast. She finds it easier to express what she feels in the form of writing. Whether it is poems, letters or long texts. These are poems that she writes trying to describe how it feels to live with certain mental health issues, in a worl...
"I really want to see the psych department," I said.
"Why? How do you think it would be like?" He asked, stunned.
"Um, I don't know. Maybe all gloomy and sad-looking, a lot of security, and stuff, I'm guessing."
"Nope, it's worse. But why do you want to see it? Maybe wait until our clinical postings?"
"Sure, but I'm just curious."
"Okay, but it's better to wait."
"Why? Is it so traumatizing that you think I'll get scared or something?"
"Yes."
I sigh in disappointment.
Not much later, I hit rock bottom. It was the darkest phase of my life. So I had to go to the psych department. Not for a visit, but as a patient.
He was there to take me, so I wasn't entirely shitting bricks. He took me down and made me understand what was going to happen, and that it would be okay.
I waved him bye and sat on the waiting chair for my turn. I had to distract myself from all the kinds of noises around me. There were all kinds of disturbing sounds. Someone banging an object onto the metal frame of a bed, A lady, who possibly was a rape victim was weeping loudly, Men staring creepily at the ones waiting for their turn, Nurses yelling something to their companions to get a hold of the patient, A man screaming at frequent intervals, Another man yelling that he wanted to kill himself, but the doctors are stopping him, And these are only some of the many sounds. Because soon, I distracted myself and focused on a book on my phone.
After I had finally cut out all the noise from my surrounding, and the commotion in my head, I hear a man's voice, "You're a patient here?"
And that question was for me: because I was sitting in the waiting area with my white coat on.
I lift my head from my mobile and just look him in the eye. He was sitting opposite me. A chill ran up my spine. And no, this is not the kind of chill when you are turned on by someone. It was the kind that you feel when you see something eerie. His face was pink due to excess blood flow. I don't know if that was because of any medication that he was on, or because of the weather, or something else. His sclera was pale yellow, and the blood vessels of his eyes were prominent. His eyes were kind of protruding out. And he had this unsettling smile on his face. He also shifted forward in his chair when I looked up from my phone. No words escape my mouth, so I just stare at him blankly. He was sitting with his wife and his three-year-old son. Thankfully, I didn't have to do anything because his wife gave him a look of disgust. And at the same time, I was called in for my turn. So I hastily get up and walk away from him.
Trust me, it's all fun and games when we talk about the psychiatry department until we go in there as patients ourselves.
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