WARD SIX: AWAKE

gradual reawakening: who was i when i wasn't me?
           first cognizance: pacing back and forth in the holding facility, back and forth, foggy. the smells. the room in the center with everyone's posessions in a pile. so bored of walking back and forth that i bang my head on the glass wall. i don't know how long i'm doing any of these things. there is no time, and very little thought. i don't know where i am, or why. at some point a nurse asks me why i bang my head on the glass. —i'm bored, i reply. —when i get bored of this, i'll go back to pacing.
           next, until ward six: a nurse (same nurse?) has me sign my admittance forms. —do you want this to be voluntary or involuntary? she asks. i'm straight out of the fog and don't really understand the implications, or what's going on at all. i ask —what's the difference? really wanting to know what i'm getting into. she defines the terms in the most obvious way: —one is with consent, the other without. it doesn't help. i'm not actually thinking at this point, but the seriousness of the situation has allowed individual thoughts work through the machinery, slowly. at this point it is the ludicrous question of volunteering to choose involuntary. i am saved by the preemption of the image of ned flanders choosing kicking and screaming when he was admitted; i choose voluntary, which has plus-good repercussions later.
           next awareness is ward six, coming up from seven leagues down, slowly.

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