Have you ever felt like everyone's eyes were on you the moment you walked into a room, that feeling over comes your body when you take a seat, people around you staring at you like you're crazy? Then suddenly, you think to yourself… why am I in this place? At that moment, you forget why you're in the mental institution, sitting here in Group on your first day. Then, you remember again. You remember why and how you got into this place. You remember the day you swallowed all those pills and slit your wrists. You remember how you killed your parents—what they did to you. You remember how your father treated you when he was getting high off drugs, or how your mom beat you whenever she was drunk. You remember your brother, how he would just sit there and watch as your parents beat you every chance they got. He watched you hurt yourself with the blade you hid under your mattress in your room. You think to yourself… how someone as crazy and fucked up as you could still be alive. 'Why am I still here?' You ask your self—oh, that's right. You can't die. You can't just simply take an overdose or drink yourself to death. It's your 'destiny' to get better. You need to get better. You don't want to, but you have to. It's the only way.
OOO
Shall I continue?