Back in hospital again. That comfortable smothering place. It almost feels like home. Yet so foreign. Over and over you end up here. Time and time again. Why? Is it a choice? Is it your mental illness? Immaturity? Stupidity?

You chose to drink. You chose to swallow pills. You knew what you were doing. Are you sure? Why did you do it when it could only end this way? What outcome were you hoping for?

Were you seeking attention? If so, from who? If so, why? If not, what were you thinking? Were you thinking? Did you care? Do you care? Now that you’re stuck in Northwestern. For the third time this year. Dreading being transferred out. Dreading to stay as well.

You ran. You escaped. You were dying to leave. Were you dying inside by staying? Are you getting the help you need? Do I really need all that help? Am I fine? Okay? Normal? But I chose to make crazy decisions. I am not sure. I seek answers to all these questions too.

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