Quarantine me, isolate the cause. Study me, watch me, poke and prod me till I bleed. Kill me and watch me die…I hate these walls, with there cheerful colours. The pale blues and brilliant greens, the warm yellows and pretty pinks.

My friends, my family or the closest thing I’ve ever had to a family which is really fucked up when you think about it. Little orphan Shane…and her messed up ways. I could be a cartoon character from the thirties…I could be your entertainment. I can make you laugh, I can make you smile, and I can make you feel good. Just ask the girl next to you…ha I don’t know why that’s funny.

Do you remember their names? Do you remember their stories? Do remember their bodies? Or how they sounded in the thick of it? Do you remember Shane?

I’m so sick of these voices…I guess they’re my conscious. I guess I feel guilty…and hurt at the same time. They wanted me…they wanted to know me. Why do people want to know me?

“So you know what you have to do right?” doctor Morgan, my hero, or so they say. His words they ring in my ears like little bells, they make the voices shut up for just a second. If only he knew what was going on in my head.

“Show up here three times a week, and uh hang out with this lovely lady.” lily the nurse, she’s 37 married with three kids. Her husband is a contractor…her hand lingers on mine longer than it should. “What will happen to me?”

You think he has the answers? Can he save you again? Do you want him to? Why are you here Shane? Why are you doing this? Do you think she’ll care? Is this all for her?

“If you do choose to go through with this…it can get bad.” that’s one thing I like about him, he doesn’t sugar coat what’s happening. He doesn’t lie…I always hated lying but it would just happen.

“What would happen if I didn’t…if I didn’t do this?” I can see her smiling, I can see her angry the way she would purse her lips together.