Everyone at st.francis has a qork about them, whether they rock back and forth or have tremors. I’m not the only one who grinds their teeth.
I fit right into my new society of mental illness tenants. I’m a bit more of a recluse, because there’s no one to talk to. There is a woman my age here but she isn’t very friendly.
As I wait on line in the lounge for my daily medication, I notice that everyone has a special little something about themselves and I fit right in. I stand and grind my teeth, while others rock back forth or fidget.
I’m feeling quite content in my surroundings. Everyone always greets me good morning, and pretty much leaves me alone, except for the guy who hits on me. When ever he sees me he invites me to go out with him or he will buy me breakfast. I always decline. I am really not in the mood to talk about his virginity and get his hopes up that one day we can be together, even though I’m longing for a conversation, I just don’t want to have it with him.
He’s is disgusting to me. He smells like old sweat and is morbidly obese. He also mumbles when he talks. Even though he’s a “nice” guy I don’t just don’t want to get his hopes up that I’m attracted to him when I’m not. I can’t stand being around him. He doesn’t even wear shoes he wears open toes slippers and a winter coat and pants that make him look like a barrel.
Alot of the people wear the same clothes everyday even if it’s stained, like Leslie. She’s sweet and says hello to me when ever she sees me, but she wears the same top everyday and it’s covered in stains. Even if she changes her top it’s always stained with food.
There are more men then woman at the recidence. The men all wear the same thing also. No one gets dressed in clean clothes or a fresh outfit.
I try to change my outfits up. I have nothing but clothes now so I have options. That’s the only difference being younger then everyone else. I’m not content just wearing anything even if I’m not going anywhere. Alot of the people wear slippers in their feet and take their medication and money and go back to their unit.
The woman who’s my age is also stuck in a rut. She wears a black or purple skirt and a t shirt and pink sneakers. She always looks dirty. That’s one thing I could never go with out having clean clothes on my back. That’s where I don’t fit in.
I refuse to leave my unit and not be dressed. I will not put myself in a rut. But for the most part I fit into the fabric of the mental illness society.