They didn’t drag me in, but they might as well have. They didn’t physically push me, is the thing, but I knew that if I hadn’t gone they probably would have. They didn’t even say anything to me, I just knew what they wanted me to do. So I did it, just to avoid drama. Like I wasn’t already causing drama, I mean seriously. When they come in to you math class partway through the school day and tell you to collect your things, “You need to come with me” they say, and you kind of have to go. But people stare at you, because typically parents can’t do that. So I just got up and quietly walked out of the room with my father. Who knows what they’ll be saying tomorrow.

In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have left that note on the bathroom floor. It’s not like I dropped it or something and didn’t know it; I placed it there and left it, after considering picking it up. Now, don’t ask me why I didn’t pick it up, because I swear I don’t know. I don’t know what came over me, I just did it. And I hardly even though of it or remembered it after I had done it, I just went quickly back to class and tried to focus on the lesson. I mean, it wasn’t that hard or anything. My mind was pretty much blank by then.

Well, what’s done is done, and here I am. Okay, I’m skipping. I do that sometimes- I skip chapters in books, I skip classes, I skip ahead of myself. I’m like a broken record or something, but I don’t repeat stuff, I just skip right over it. Oh, right. So. I leave that note on the floor in the bathroom on the second floor down the hall and to the right. I guess some girl saw it and told the principle or something. I don’t feel like saying exactly what the note was, but basically it was my pre-suicide note. Now I know what you’re thinking, if I left a note on the floor that means that I was calling out for help and I don’t actually want to die, I just want attention blah blah blah. Well, think what you want. It’s not true, because I’m not sure why I did it. I just… did.

Okay, so after that girl, whoever she is, found the note and called the principle… well there was that whole You-need-to-come-with-me business, there was the staring kids, there was the collecting my stuff, there was the getting in the car… Oh, so that brings us to the sitting-in-the-hospital-emergency-room-type-thing thing. Well, I went to the emergency room (which I think, why would you bring a mental patient to the EMERGENCY room, there are people who are actually dying who need the help ASAP ) and they took me to a smaller room where people asked me questions that I didn’t answer about my sex life and how I feel and all the crap.
So we sat in the room for like four hours, I watched a movie, they took me blood- by force, I may add- and we sat and we waited and my mom cried. And of course I didn’t say anything the whole time, why would I have? Why would I have given them the stupid satisfaction of me talking? It would make them think that they won, that they were the bigger, better, in control people or something. And trust me, they are not and were not. So right now I’m not quite sure what I’m even talking about.
Okay, so then they decided that I am indeed insane. And by this point, I didn’t really care what happened to me. It was like I was a blob of nothing. I didn’t talk to them and I didn’t even pretend I was listening to them. So I lifelessly moved on to the stretcher that they seemed to be motioning for me to get on. I didn’t really get why I was on a stretcher, once again some other sick person could probably use it more than me. But I was still in this I’m-not-talking-to-anyone mode, so I couldn’t mention how stupid it was. I didn’t want them thinking I cared or something like that. I let them do with me as they wished, I guess.
After what seemed like forever the ambulance arrived at a second hospital. This one really specializes in insane people like me, specifically children. They took me up to the unit I’m currently living in for the next while. They went over all the rules, and while pretending not to listen I learned that they lock the doors and everything- the doors to the bathroom, the doors to get off the unit, the door to my room even when I’m not in it. And I sat there and I didn’t put any emotion on my face.
I kept my blank face while I took off my clothes so they could see that I don’t have any scars or anything. I kept my blank face when my parents left, crying. I kept my blank face when they steered me into the community room, where a bunch of kids- all older than I- sat playing Boggle and chatting. And I kept my blank face when I sit down to play Boggle with them, because I didn’t really have a choice. Until that night, which is now, currently. I’m sitting on my bed listening to my new roommates breathe. I’m wondering how long they’ve been here, and how long I will be. I’m thinking that what matters for now at least is that I’m ‘safe’ or whatever the adults keep blabbering on about. I’m thinking about how I guess I shouldn’t have left that note on the bathroom floor. But I’m no time traveler, so I can’t just go and change it. So I guess I’m just kind of stuck, ‘safe,’ here for the night.