*Blogging on steemit has re-kindled my desire to write fictional stories. I am trying my hand at it for the first time since I was a child/teenager. This is part I of my story.*

### My first thought when I opened my eyes was "Are you **fucking** kidding me?" 

https://i.imgsafe.org/e56a00cc0b.jpg

I failed, again. I was alive. The room I was in was very bright and it was hard to focus. I was in a lot of pain. I had no idea how much damage was done. How the hell did I survive? The last thing I remembered was the blinding lights, the shrill, extended honking of the train, the feeling of "This is it. This is finally it." and then I woke up in this god damn place. I would have been angry had I not been in so much pain. I couldn't focus. Where was a nurse or doctor? Why was there no nurse? Did I not have a single friend who knew I was here? I just continued to lay in that room, waiting, not sure what I was waiting for exactly. 

After what felt like hours but may have only been minutes a nurse came into the room.  I couldn't tell you much about how she looked. I couldn't tell you much about how anyone looked that I met that day. I was in a zombie-like state from the xanax and possibly the trauma. The entire hospital stay is somewhat of a blur. I slept on and off through most of it and I recall many faceless doctors and nurses coming in and out of my room, talking to me but I can't remember much of what they said. I knew I was being baker acted. I knew two of my ribs were broken and that half my face was massacred. I didn't know how bad it looked. I wasn't given a mirror. Probably for the best. 

She asked me if I was aware of why I was in a hospital. "Yeah, because I jumped in front of a fucking train." I thought. I said nothing. She informed me I was going to be escorted to a mental institution after I got out of the hospital. She told me I had been baker acted. She seemed confused as to why I was so calm. There was still xanax in my system. That probably had something to do with it. I think she was still talking as I drifted back to sleep. I didn't want to be here and I definitely didn't want to listen to this nurse.

https://i.imgsafe.org/e5837ceda4.jpg

Once I finally woke up fully the drugs had worn off. I'd been in the hospital for a week I was told. I will admit that at this point I was scared. Really scared. I felt like crying but I held it back. I had to remain strong. This was happening and there was no way out of it this time. Crying about it wouldn't solve anything. I had never been to a mental institution and I had no idea what to expect. I had friends who were in Lakeside and I heard some really bad things about that place. I know people think I am crazy because I want to be dead but these places had **really** crazy people in them. People who think the CIA is after them or that god is submitting direct orders into their brain. It had violent, psychotic people. People who just sit and stare at walls. I could relate to those people I guess. All I was doing anymore was staring at these white hospital walls. 

**Photos**

Girl in hoodie.
https://www.flickr.com/photos/130239861@N06/16392433932

Hospital bed:

Acute room - wikimedia commons