The Asylum for the Mentally Unstable

January 15. Sunday

Today was church. Normally, its almost bearable but today we were lucky enough to get a new pastor. He belonged in here, he was insane. Our old pastor made us sit in front of the Jesus statue and beg for forgiveness. If we didn't we would be hit with a wooden paddle. This one though......

He made us attend in the nude. We are normally okay with no clothes, our bodies don't bother us. He had the guards knock our knees forward so that we were kneeling like dogs. Then they whipped us, with leather straps until our backs were bloody. One of the teenagers made the mistake of collapsing. The pastor dismissed the children, then gave us more gashes. We remained silent.... refusing to shed a tear for this unholy man. He told us we were mistakes in the eyes of God, dirty jokes, slaves of Lucifer. I prayed, for the first time in a long time.. I asked to be free.

Its not people that scare me... Ts what's inside that's truly frightening. I can hear their internal demons, all of their sins, very evil thought they have. But I'm just as sane as normal people. The ones who live outside. Outside my small, dingy window is a bright yellow canary. He sings, but its muffled by the glass. I tried to hum back his bright tune. But it was broken....like it was a bird with broken wings. And in a cage. Broken wings can't fly, and a cage keeps it inside. I guess I'm that bird...... Broken and caged. So I slammed my fist onto the window, successfully scaring away my free counterpart.

My other friend, Jordan was bloody when he got back to his cell. I asked him what happened. I regret that. They pulled the skin off of his right forearm in order to "purify his blood." I leaned back on the iron bars..as I listened to the sound of my friend cry. I pulled away the bloody rag on my arm. The long,angry,red slit pulsed and realesed more blood. I poked it with my long fingernail. Pain leapt up and the gash seemed to scream bloody murder. I pulled my finger out and rinsed the cut out with my water pitcher. My long tangled hair hung in my face as I lied down in bed to document my day.

I'm getting tired.... Maybe I should go to s--