Simone

First, I find myself in one of the larger, stately houses on campus. I’m looking after an infant, but I have no idea where he is. I have no memory of how I got here. I have no memory at all. I have no direction. One moment I’m dancing in the kitchen, the next I’m ravaging through scrapbooks in the bureau of the master bedroom. The dad is really hot. He reminds me of JFK. I’m falling down the stairs. I stand at the bottom, bruised. My roommate is here. She tells me I’ve been drugged and that we need to leave. The parents are back. The mom offers me a hesitant smile as I leave. She won’t ask me back. I think I ripped up her wedding photos. We walk back to the dorm, and my roommate tells me to sleep. She sounds and looks the same. That’s good. But I can’t sleep. I get frustrated and rip the posters off my wall. I’m sad. I liked my posters.

The next night, I go to the mental health center to discuss treatment for my anxiety. They ask about my family’s mental history, and I give them an honest answer. Immediately, I’m diagnosed with bipolar and committed to an inpatient treatment program.

I’m put on lithium, gaining weight and losing touch with my personality and sense of self. I still have the capability for anger though, and I express my frustration of being misdiagnosed so suddenly. They tell me I’m having a manic episode.

A few days later, another patient tells me my mouth is rotting. The bathroom mirror confirms my gums perpetual bleed. Everything tastes sour and metallic. I need help. I find a nurse, begging to see a doctor. “Nothing is wrong with you, nothing is wrong with you, nothing is wrong with you.”

Last night, North Korea bombs 10 different cities at the stroke of midnight, dismantling world order for global dominance. I survive, but those among us are collected for enslavement under the new government. I wish I was dead.

Each night I wake up quick, covered in sweat, digesting the comforts of reality. My posters are intact. My mouth is healed. I’m sleeping in my bed.

I have complete control of my body again. ♦