Let my Blood pump…

No one understands what I feel. No one understands on what it feels like to feel happy about being drugged to feel no pain, about being touched inappropriately by the workers, and the exhilaration of being strapped to tables. EVERY SINGLE DAY felt like the best day of my life. My life was boring before the asylums, I mean I stayed in a room, I was taken care of by my parents, and I was given love. But no, I didn’t want love and I didn’t want pity. I wanted horror and I wanted a life that was so dangerous that my body and mind would be broken into tiny little pieces so I can’t function as a normal being but as a psychopath as everyone calls me.

I wanted the feeling of straps strapping me so tight over my skin, I wanted to feel the pain of my skin growing over the rusty leather straps but that’s only when I want to feel just pain. No, real pain itself was when I was put into a straitjacket and locked into a room with my suicidal thoughts. How is that real pain? Well, it’s because every single time that I’m alone in that isolated room, where I’m away from reality, where my mind can think whatever it wants because it’s just me and nobody else. Just me in a small room where I can scream, hit my head against the walls, force myself to go numb, and just lose myself to thoughts that nobody can interpret but myself and only myself. Maybe that’s why normal people don’t understand because they don’t want to lose themselves into a world of drugs, of abuse, and of losing one’s soul and dignity.

Oh but do you want to know what gets my blood pumping? The doctors and the nurses. You may think that they are all goody two shoes but don’t ever believe what normal people tell you. Believe what the mentally insane say because we have the best experiences with them. The Doctors are possibly the best. These doctors touch you in such inappropriate ways that you feel goosebumps from the pleasure. Sometimes, they even have sex with you and you blood just starts to pump when their belt just hits the ground. Their rough hands touching my skin, the way that they tackle me to the ground just so I could take my meds so I can overdose makes me feel alive. Nobody knows this except now but these doctors are the ones that made me felt more alive than I ever felt before. And the nurses? Oh don’t get me started on those nurses. They are the best employees you ever had. I mean the drama that goes on with them? They start to cheat on their husbands to fuck the any of the doctors but then commit suicide once they find out they are pregnant and nobody wants them, I mean who could want anyone better? The nurses never take care of us which allows us to roam free and disturb the peace in the neighborhood when we sneak out of the building. The only time they care for us is when they force feed us, which I have to say is possibly the greatest idea that’s been ever invented but that’s just me.

What I’m really trying to propose to everyone is that mental hospitals shouldn’t exist. We shouldn’t even be living in proper homes. People that have Chronic Dementia, Acute Mania, or Melancholia have to be isolated from the normal people because we can’t live with you normal people. We are the mentally insane, the psychopaths, the cannibals and no one wants to live with that ever. But if you can raise and protect someone who is close to you that have those diseases by all means take care of them. But just know that you are at risk of being injured or at worst killed.

Let my Blood pump…

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