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=   F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K.   =
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                               [ X ]
                               -----

               "get out of the garbage can, this is
               psychodrama, dammit! you are supposed
               to use this for healing!"

               i sat limply inside of a garbage can,
               forty hands pushing on my shoulders.
               i felt trapped, and i suddenly
               remembered other hands that held me
               down. tears sprang unbidden to my
               eyes. i did not want to rise. it was
               too easy, too comfortable to be here,
               held down, not in charge of my own
               destiny. the disease, i could blame
               it on the disease.

               day in day out. i took my meds like a
               good little psych patient, joked
               with the mental health workers,
               dutifully signed out my sharps. i did
               my homework in the allotted hour and
               snuck cigarettes in the bathroom. i
               only got caught once. my disease was a
               weight on my shoulders that i ignored.

               i sat in group and smiled while digging
               my fingernails into my hands. i wrote
               incessantly about blood. people watched
               me take a piss. there was no privacy.
               there was no touching. no human contact,
               no love. there was nothing but group and
               meals and the pure outpouring of raw
               emotion from 7 a.m. until 10 p.m. Blood
               was drawn, weight was written down,
               i went to therapy three times a week.

               pure monotony.

               but i learned some things. i learned that
               modern psychiatry is bullshit, and that
               mental hospitals are crap. nothing good
               comes out of it.. they put you in your
               own little world, a world that is NOT
               a microcosm of the real world, but rather
               a simulated, comfortable surreality that
               doesn't do shit to help you. they scar
               you.

               funny how it will grab me. i was walking
               down the street, and i saw a couple
               holding hands. i was filled with a sense
               of wrong, and a thought flashed through
               my mind.

               no pc allowed.

               i had to shake my head, remind myself that
               in the real world, people are allowed to
               touch each other.

               funny, treatment takes almost as long as
               it takes for your insurance to run out.
               greedy bastards... they fuck kids up for
               money, and they don't even help them.
               parents don't know this, but the kids who
               have no privacy and are treated like animals
               do.

               so i sit here and write, and i am doing
               a thousand things that i would not be allowed
               to do in a psych ward. i ask, why? why
               couldn't i smoke? drink coffee? watch a
               movie that has violence in it? swear?
               these things happen in the real world,
               and nothing they do in this places
               helps you deal with it, much less the
               things that threw you in there. how can
               i deal with being beaten by my lover if
               i am not allowed to see a violent movie
               because it might hurt my tender money
               producing sensibilities?


               demonika

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