Takes One To Know One

Chapter 8

Day three in the mental hospital went horribly slow. It actually pained me to sit on the couch and listen to these therapy groups.

I read most of the time. The people there didn’t notice, or if they did, they didn’t seem to really care.

My heads been locked into this book Your Own, Sylvia by Stephanie Hemphill. It’s about Sylvia Plath, a famous poet in the 1940’s to the 1960’s. She committed suicide by sticking her head in a gas oven of carbon monoxide. Odd way to commit suicide, right? She attempted suicide first by talking pills but failed. Maybe she was afraid something like pills wouldn’t work again.

The book is written in poems, each one written in a different perspective of someone associated with Sylvia. The book is extraordinary. There’s something special to it that I can’t seem to name. I started the book today and I’m more than half way through.

I think I’m so involved with this book because of how much I can relate to Sylvia. She felt helpless, miserable, and well, everything I feel. I wish I could talk to Sylvia; tell her about my own story and maybe we’d even be friends.

I wondered what would’ve happened if she didn’t commit suicide. The book says her therapist went into great depression after she died and even blamed herself for not being able to keep her alive. Would that happen to me if I committed suicide? Is that what Christie and Jasper would think?

Luke teased me about reading all day. Although, I don’t argue with him. I let him tease me and he gets an occasional laugh or rolling eyes out of me.

Luke and I talked during lunch like normal. It was like that awkward moment of almost kissing didn’t happen. I was so glad he acted like it didn’t happen. I didn’t want to lose yet another friendship by something I did to mess it all up.

I wish I could say something fun or interesting happened at Central Centers today, but if I did then I’d be lying. It’s not like I hate going; I don’t mind it. In some odd way I enjoy the mental hospital. I feel happier there, as if all my problems are solved and I feel so free to be able to talk about my feelings without feeling bad afterwards. But then I get home and all those thoughts come back.

Have you ever felt so helpless, unwanted, depressed, and as if your life is going nowhere? That’s how I feel everyday. I feel as though I’m my own enemy. I’m not being bullied anymore; I’m now my own bully. Everyday I torment myself by calling myself ugly, fat, and a horrible person.

I felt guilty for doing all this to myself. I can’t possibly blame Dylan for causing my depression no matter how much I’d like to. The only person I can really blame is myself. Maybe that’s why I hate myself so much. I feel depressed because I caused my depression. Does that even make sense?

The only thing that kept me sane throughout the day was that I was going to see Jacob once I got home. Just the thought of it made me so excited. I missed him already. We haven’t talked much because I’ve been busy. I missed video chatting with him everyday. I missed laughing and talking to him. I knew once I saw him, he’d make a corny joke that would make me laugh and I’d forget about my problems and the mental hospital.

I sat in the wrap up group of the day. Everyone shared their evening plans and goals.

“Peyton?” I heard Daniel say. I poked my head up from my book and looked at him. “I’ve been saying your name.”

“Oh, sorry,” I apologized. He laughed.

“You’ve been reading that book all day,” he said, meaning he obviously noticed. I felt a little embarrassed since he’s noticed I’ve barely paid any attention today. “Anyways, your evening plans and goals?”