The psychiatrist enters the room. “They tell me you want to end your life, can you tell me why?”
I lower my head murmur, “I’m already dead inside, I just want to finish the job.”
During the admissions process, they went through my stuff, searching for items I could use to harm myself. They confiscated my toothbrush, comb, cigarettes, and lighter but what made the most impact was the removal of shoelaces from my sneakers. For some reason, having to walk around in loose shoes made me realize how sick I really was. While being escorted to my room, we passed the recreation room. I observed a man putting a puzzle together and I hoped that maybe, just maybe, this commitment would do the same for me.