So, this photograph was taken of me, geez.. countless years ago... 4? or so I think... I always loved the way it defined me. Below is a piece i wrote a little over 3 years ago, when I first moved to Pleasanton, when I experienced a flashback to where I spent some time that summer. I enjoy this piece because whenever i reread it... it's all completely real again. Like I'm there, with those emotions and feelings. I did a play this summer called School of Jesus Fish, that took place in a mental hospital. Many of the characters reminded me of all the great people I met when in there. I still think about them a lot...
"It was almost 4:30, I needed to shower and get out of my pj's. I turn the water on full blast, a little too warm for most people, and jump in. Having a stand-up shower can be sort of a bad thing in times like these...
Shampoo in the eyes, always, without fail, I don't know how I do it. I shut them and continue to wash, going through the motion as one normally would do. After about 3 min. I open them to find the light flooding my still stinging eyes. Instantly I clamp them shut, trying in vain to stop the pain from getting worse. This time, while my eyes are closed, the images come back.
The flashback filled the room around me, though I couldn't see it with my eyes closed. I really believed I was living in a moment already past. The cold tile floor, that never seems to be clean enough to want to stand on it. The shower not pumping water hard enough, to make you feel like it's really cleaning you. I can hear voices outside the thick door, I smell the mass produced soap, the kind that everyone has to use here. A new bar every shower, so much waste in here. I know the too small, not soft enough towels are waiting for me. One to step on, when exiting the shower, and one to wrap my shrinking frame in.
I linger in the shower longer then I should. Other patients are waiting to use this stall. Most rather use the large shower, but it's too big and open for the likes of me. Or they like the bathtub room. I'm not allowed in there... The staff have the stupid idea, that I'll try to drown myself. I wouldnt do that, not here... So I opt for the small shower room. Just big enough for the standing shower, a plastic chair to hold your clothes, and a trash can, for the shampoo, conditioner, and soap, after each shower. This hospital smells... different. I'll never forget the smell. I still havnt.
The hallway will be cold, even when I've completely dressed. You can never be fully warm, without shoes. It's the middle of Aug. shouldn't it be warm? Going into the hallway means no more privacy. There will probably be 5 or so people pacing up and down it. Even the old man, being pushed in his wheel chair.. up and down, back and forth, by polite nurses, who try in vain to have conversations with him. All he will do is drool, and yell horrible, dirty things, to her, and to the world in general. Or scream for his wife. We never found out if his wife was alive or dead... But he wanted to see her really bad. Leaving this stall means 3 juice boxes, another container of yogurt, and more snakes, waiting for me in the fridge. Neatly labled with "Jack H." which tells all the other patients to back off. They are trying to fatten me up.
When you arnt allowed to shave, you can never feel like you're getting clean, no matter how hard you scrub. Or how many long showers you take, in between meals and group therapy meetings. You long for the first shower you get, once freed from these walls. But know that when you get into that shower, you'll regret leaving the hospital so fast. Every time... It never changes.
I'm shaking, the hot water seems to run forever. So many people, showering so many times, and yet the water is still filling the room with steam. But your bones never seem to warm up, you shiver through the entire shower, knowing soon that the water will have to be turned off... And the cold will come and envelope your body... A blanket of frost that curls up around you, keeping you company. I stand letting the hot water rush over me, wishing I could stay here forever.
A door slams, I hear wheels rolling down the hall. Lunch trays... Voices get loud, heavy footsteps move down toward the day room. I hear the normal "Where's Jack? She has to eat her lunch." call. I sigh, and push the knob that turns off the shower. Take a few deep breaths, before opening my eyes.
And I'm back in my shower, here at home, in Pleasanton. Water is off, I'm shaking as the cool air moves all around me. It's time to dry off and get dressed. I'm in this world now."
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