Ward 103




     The eye was staring down at me again, just like it always did, and always had been. It never stirred, never retiring from its poach. It's life long goal and only purpose: to watch my every move. And yet it didn't care itself what was going on and what would happen. It just stared. Sort of unsettling, watching a lifeless glass eye behind protected covering. The security camera blinked again.
     My eyes moved again from the camera to my four small walls, dimly lit with the 5 o'clock sun. Footsteps down the hall. They had finally come for me; half an hour later than they had said they would. A nurse came into my room. "Time for group," she said, and escorted out of my room to another down the hall.
     The nurse opened the door to another dimly lit room of the locked mental ward. There were a small array of chairs in which patients sat, waiting for everyone to arrive. "Time for group to start," said the counselor there. "Who would like to rate their mood first."
     Silence fell across the room. In a corner or the room, another eye looked down, daring us to even blink. The tension of that eye was such that I thought I might suffocate. I diverted attention to a clock on the far wall. It struck 5:45pm.
     "Randy," I turned my attention back to the counselor staring at me, "why don't you go. Rate your mood on a scale of one to ten, ten being the best you've ever felt, and one being the lowest. Randy, what are you?"
     "A one."
     "Anything affecting your mood today to be that way."
     "Yeah, I'm here. My life doesn't have any meaning anymore and I'm here."
     "Does anyone here have any comments for Randy?"
     In one of the far corners of the room a hand was raised. An older person. I knew him. It seemed like he had been in this place forever.
     "Well, for one thing," he started, "you've done a pretty good job today just seeing you making it to this group. You haven't eaten your toothpaste or strangled yourself with your pantyhose-"
     I smiled. Someone not affected by the gloom. Wait a moment, why is someone like that here? It struck me as odd...
     "Josh," the counselor interrupted, giving him a glare, "if you disrupt group like that one more time I'm going to have to send you out." It figured. All the staff here were like that.
     "I am curious," Josh continued in a matter of a fact tone, "as to why you say your life doesn't have any meaning anymore."
     "I just don't have anything to live for. My family is a mess, all my friends are gone, and everything I ever enjoyed in life is gone as well. There's nothing left"
     "You know, I'm sorry, but even with that there are still other things. You have a family."
     "I know. I've been to so many hospitals that tell me I should feel different. I know I should feel different. I should be happy that I even have a family. God, I'm insane."
     "First of all, do you even know what the meaning of insane is? Insane is the repetition of an act over and over again expecting a different result each time. You're not insane. None of us here are insane."
     "Then what is wrong with us? Why do we feel this way? Why do we feel like outcasts? Why are we tossed back and forth from hospital to hospital?"
     "Because no one knows what to do with us. We'll keep being tossed back and forth until we can show we are safe and not a threat to others and ourselfs. That's the main reason. And also we need to recover from our depression."
     "But that's just the thing. You're still here Josh, and you seem to be doing the best among us. You smile and laugh. It's like we've all been put in this dark tunnel, left to wonder and fend for ourselves. And most of us have given up on ever getting out and reaching the light. But you've caught a glimpse of light, and somehow you've been able to hold on to it. But you're still here." I paused a moment, trying to collect my thoughts. The clock ticked as the eye stared down. It waited for an answer. "But I must say I'd give anything to be able to see that light. Perhaps then we will all have a better chance of getting out."
     "Living in a hospital isn't the destiny of your life. So live life a day at a time. The light of tomorrow will bring on a new perspective. That's the only thing that will keep you sane here."
     "Perhaps you're right. But that still doesn't change the way I feel. I'm still depressed, and nothing in my life has changed."
     "It won't, but it's all we have to hope for."
     The hands of the clock struck six. "Time to go back to you rooms," said the counselor.
     Everyone shuffled out in unison to the array of doors down the hall. Each person had its own. And as the doors closed each person behind them, I wondered if anything had been accomplished today. Did anything Josh say affect them. Did it affect me? Or was this something that happened everyday to no avail.
     "Don't dawdle in the hall," someone said.
     I entered my room. The cleaning lady had been in and set a pair of hospital clothes on bed that was bolted to the floor. The sun had finally set and the automatic lights had come on. I sighed as I looked around the empty room and then back up at the eye.
Onion


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