»censored« by anatol knotek
»censored« by anatol knotek

Hello friends. Bloodshed embedded itself out of the heart of America, therefore into the individual souls that America bred.

While in the State Hospital, after I lived there for 8 months or so, I wondered what in the hell goal,other than leaving the incarnate place, might I set for myself? I sit here stunned, because If I set a goal then, I would’ve short-changed myself. Boggled down by ruminations of  the aggressive type (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder), all I wanted consisted of a wrapped and very tiny package with an extremely rare and very valuable gem inside it. I wanted to think freely, clearly and kindly. Like a diamond, I desired to meet with acceptance the flaws in my character, and applaud the morality I knew existed at the core of my being. I joke around, because so much of my experience at the State Hospital facility fell into the “tragically funny” category.

For instance, a gruesome character of the female tenant started a laughable pattern of swallowing batteries. She experimented with AAA, moved onto AA, and then suddenly she sucked down a D battery. Why? She wanted off the unit, so that she might smoke a cigarette. Always the trouble maker, the staff decided to ban her from her cigarette breaks. It takes incredible intelligence or respectful stupidity to sit in one’s room alone, and swallow a battery with her express purpose. Of course the staff caught on to her conniving ways, and she no longer earned a trip to an outside hospital. If she ate a battery, her bowl movements worked the best to exit the battery out of her body. Just imagine…”Damn, where did I put my batteries?” “Oh my God, if I refuse to dig through my poop, I can forget listening to my CD player.”

I bet she listened to shitty music;)))

Now I still fall short of setting goals for myself. Might I clarify that I mean long term goals? The title I gave to the theme of my life, “Goal Interrupted,” still stands. However, within the points of nothing versus everything, or achieving a goal versus not achieving it…the interruption becomes the flavor, the spice, or the Mrs. Dash of my character. So, no matter if I set a goal and pursue it on a galloping horse, the pit stops where I read toilet poetry that makes me howl with every cell in my body I say thanks to the big man. Character precedes the goals that I meet that mean a great deal to me.

I never swallowed a battery, but not holding it against this terrified woman instilled tolerance into some aspects of my constitution.

Jessica Klein

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