Day 10 "I Don't Live There Anymore"

my favorite painting from in there. It says HOME and HOPE. I hadn't watercolored in a million years before conjuring this up.

So around day 8 I knew I was getting out at Day 10. The staff was saying "Why are you still here?" on day 7, "You've gotta be getting out of here soon." Everyone could tell I was different, doing better. I put my trust in the doctors and I truly believe they saved me. The isolation from my entire life was important for them to figure out what's up. Major Depressive Disorder.

My last two days I went around fist bumping and thanking the staff for helping me, total gratitude. One of the nurses explained what all of my meds do, and she called me a "success story" sothat was nice to hear. Everyone I apologized to for rubbing testicle blood on their window and pulling out my balls was like "oh, don't mention it, we all have bad days." No, accountability is important. I would tell them "It's not an appropriate way to behave, even if I was waiting 8 hours for an alcohol swab and a bandage, I'm holding myself accountable and I'm sorry for doing it. I appreciate that the doctor finally sent me to the hospital." Had to twist the knife a little bit because I still think they were negligent about handling that, especially being that I have a history of it.

First image I took when I got out. Opened the window to taste freedom. Smelled like the beach so I closed the window.

On my last day I was shooting the shit with my favorite nurse, she's probably my age, Italian, reminded me of Marissa Tomei. I could tell she's been there for a good decade so I started asking about the place, improvements, changes, etc. There used to be a microwave until someone put tin foil inside of it. There used to be no plexiglass separating the patients and the staff booth. It's few and far between but before they let us outside, they have to do a round to make sure nobody tossed any contraband or weapons over the fence. I noticed there's not a single flat head or philips head screw in the whole joint. It's truly locked down.

I came out in the best shape I've been in since 2016.

Fast forward to the exit, I said my goodbyes, gave away a few tshirts to some dudes I saw rocking the same threads for a few days. I told my roommate "I'm really going to miss you man, I'm glad we could be on this journey together" so he turned his back to me and looked out the window. Ahh some things never change.

I get all of my stuff besides my vape back and head to the uber, who has my old address from 15

years ago as the destination. Confounding. I begin to wonder how thorough this place really is. Maybe it's a test? I made him drive me a few blocks away from my apartment and walked the rest of the way in my grippy socks in slippers, carrying my personal affects in brown grocery bags. I was finally fucking home.