Worlds Apart Fourth Entry

by Mark Mangum

December 19th, 2007

The last couple of days were spent in observations with the extremely studious Ms. Shaver, who steamrolled over questions gauging my reactions and answers attempting to decide whether I would be able to return to life as a productive member of society or if I would need to have what she called “a little rest”.  I had a feeling after about the twentieth question that the latter may be the result, but almost welcomed the thought of being out of reach of the world outdoors.  I had died out there and I was brought back inside these walls, where I felt more secure, and safer somehow than I had for months on the other side of the barricade that was the hospital walls.
 
The cuts in my forearms and wrists have started to heal and itch with a ferocity that I could never have imagined, but yet I still sit here with a pen in my hand writing out my feelings and the day’s events, attempting to let go of the frightened person I had become.  It had been a lucky coincidence that Monica had brought a few of my things to the hospital and this old journal happened to be stashed among them as if she knew that I might find resolve in writing in its pages.

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