he found out, and i'm in inpatient. i haven't written anywhere in like three weeks, because i've been preoccupied with being pissed and numb at the same time. my actual diary is still in my apartment, shoved in a hole i cut in my box spring and wrapped in a sweater ashton left behind. i'm using colouring sheets now, because i need to let it all out somewhere. here's what i've been doing recently:
when i skipped my therapist that saturday, i'm told she called my psych. my psych cornered me on monday with some nurses during one of the scheduled breaks during the day in outpatient, and told me that he was sectioning me. i told him to fuck himself, and punched a nurse in the face. a different nurse gave me a needle and sedated me.
the psych called my mom, just to let her know what was happening. i haven't talked to her in a while. ever since she was finally satisfied with me going to therapy in some form six days a week, she asked me to call her every sunday to check in, and i haven't called once. i know she's tired of me. she didn't even call me once when i didn't call her.
i wasn't allowed visitors for the first 48 hours, because the psych wanted to see what i'd do. i just lay in bed, only moving to go to the bathroom. then he started pumping me full of meds, and had nurses force me out of my room. i couldn't be bothered to argue, so i listened to them but didn't participate in anything. i sat where they told me to sit and ate what they told me to eat, but refused to speak.
my mom visited me like a week after i was admitted- almost a week ago now. she stared at me, and when i wouldn't answer her questions and reply to her at all she sighed. i watched a few tears slip down her cheeks, but i know she only did it for show. she hasn't come back.
she told michael where i was, and he comes every single fucking day. the first few times he showed up, i stared at the table or my lap and refused to make a sound. then i got pissed off, and stared at him every second that he sat across from me. now i'm tired of seeing him and listening to him, so i play with my fingers and half-listen to him ramble. when he was here yesterday, he said something about going out with luke, and it made me snap. i started yelling at him after not saying a single word to him for weeks, and told him to never come back and see me if he'd rather go out with someone like luke. someone sane and normal. a nurse sedated me before i could punch him.
now i'm sad. i think i need to lie down again, i can't fucking deal with life. i wish i was dead. i'm forced to eat meals in my room today because of my outburst yesterday, so i hope i get something on my dinner tray i can use to fucking hurt myself. i need it.
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