Once upon a time, in the far away town of Muskegon, MI, a young lady went to the hospital. But not just any hospital. It was a mental hospital. Why did I go there? Because at the age of 20 I was ready to end my life. I wanted to die. I did not, however, tell anyone the real reason why. Why I couldn't stand living. It was because I heard voices and they were driving me...well, crazy.
You see, ever since I was 15 I heard two female voices conversing with each other about what I was doing. They were keeping a running commentary on
every single little action I was performing. Generally, they were soft enough that I could ignore them, but by 20, I was ready to kill myself. I spent three days in that hospital where the doctor treated me like a piece of shit hanging from his ass hole. Needless to say, I left with a greater desire to kill myself.
I didn't, obviously, but the voices haven't stopped. During the past couple weeks the voices started to get louder as my stress level got higher. By last Tuesday they were screaming. I stood in my apartment screaming at them to shut up and holding a very sharp knife to my ear. Right then I knew I needed help and I needed to address the real problem.
So, I spent this last week in a very nice mental hospital. The staff treated me like a person, my doctor explained how auditory hallucinations occur, and I started taking some medications that will (hopefully) get rid of the voices forever.
Why is it that the artists end up in the loony bin?
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The Smothers Brothers - Cabbagevia FoxyTunes
