The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

It wasn't for long. I wasn't there long. But drinking bitter black coffee I catch that medical smell in a cloud of ancient tobacco and something touches me in that still sobbing place and a wound from two years agoopens like a cadaver and a long buried shame roars its foul decaying grief.



A room of expressionless faces staring blankly at my pain, so devoid of meaning there must be evil intent.



Dr. This and Dr. That and Dr. Whatsit who's just passing and thought he'd pop in and take a piss as well. Burning in a hot tunnel of dismay, my humiliation complete as I shake without reason and stumble over words and have nothing to say about my 'illness' which anyeay amounts only to knowing that there's no point in anything because I'm going to die. And I'm deadlocked by that smooth psychiatric voice of reason telling me there is an objective reality in which my mind and body are one. But I am not here and never have been. Dr. This writes it down and Dr. That attempts a sympathetic murmur. Watching me, judging me, smelling the crippling failure oozing from my skin, my desperation clawing and all consuming panic drenching me as I gape in horror at the world and wonder why everyone is smiling and looking at me with secret knowledge of my aching shame.



Shame Shame Shame

Drown in your fucking Shame.



Inscrutable doctors, sensible doctors, way-out doctors. doctors you'd think were fucking patients if you weren't shown proof otherwise, ask the same questions, put words in my mouth, offer chemical cures for congenital anguish and cover each others asses intil I want to scream for you.... the only doctor that touched me voluntarily, who looked me in the eye, whon laughed at my gallows humor spoken in the voice of a newly-dug grave, who took the piss when I shaved my head, who lied and said it was nice to see me. Who Lied. And said it was nice to see me. I trusted you, I loved you, and it's not losing you that hurts me, but your bare facd fucking falsehoods that masquerade as medical notes.



Your truth, your lies, not mine.



And while I was believing that you were differant and that you maybe even felt the distress that sometimes flickered across your face and theatened to erupt, you were covering your ass too. Like every other stupid mortal cunt.



To my mind that's betrayal. And my mind is the subject of these bewildered thoughts.



Nothing can extinguish my anger.



And nothing can restore my faith.



This is not a world in which I wish to live.

Sometimes I turn around and catch the smell of you and I can not go on, I can not fucking go on with out expressing this terrible...so fucking awful...physical aching, fucking longing I have for you. And I can't believe that I can feel this for you and you feel nothing. Do you FEEL nothing?



Do you feel NOTHING?



And I go out at six in the morning and I start my search for you. If I've dreamt a message of a street, or a pub, or a station I go there and I wait for you.



You know I really feel like I'm being manipulated.



I've never in my life had a problem giving another person what they want. But no one has ever been able to do that for me. No one touches me, no one gets near me. But now you have touched me somewhere so fucking deep that I can't believe and I can't be that for you because I can't find you.



What does she look like? How will I know her when I see her? She'll die, she'll die, she'll only fucking die.



Do you think it's possible for a person to be born in the wrong body?



Do you think it's possible for a person to be born in the wrong era?



Fuck you. FUCK YOU! Fuck you for rejecting me by never being there. Fuck you for making me feel shit about myself. Fuck you for bleeding the fucking love and life out of me. Fuck my father for fucking up my life for good and fuck my mother for not leaving him. But most of all.... Fuck you god for making me love a person who does not exist. Fuck you, Fuck You, FUCK YOU!

"Sanity is found in the center of convulsion where madness is scorched from the bisected soul.



I know myself... I see myself...



My life is caught in a web of reason spun by a doctor to augment the sane.



At 4.48...



I shall sleep.



I came to you hoping to be healed. You are my doctor, my savior, my omnipotent judge, my priest, my god, the surgeon of my soul.



And I am your proselyte to sanity."



~4.48 Psychosis by Sarah Kane