Evil Alisandra in Wonderpark II. 4. Keep Talking – I’m Stupid

Woden Hospital

My apartment”s sliding door has unhinged and the wall outside has cracked – sure enough there have been some strange goings on here, seeing as I”m always talking to spirits, but they”ve (the spirits) kept it at a minimum thank goodness because if anyone would freak it would be me – then no one would have sympathy. The cops were spooked last time. “Who are you talking to”? “Voices in your head”? the usual, with sideways looks… One told me to put almond oil in my hair (yeah right..).

But no crying wolf as I know that story – we all should. Each person seems to exhibit the same “the TV and radio are talking to me” which in reality they probably are as our minds seemed to have caught up with reality and digital technology and there”s all this intelligent design stuff going on.

It”s nothing for a computer game addict or someone in their twenties to believe they are controlling the game – which they probably are from experiencing and seeing what I have, and the apparent blas” way they describe their experiences. Sometimes the voices in the heads can be identified as a relative – who knows it probably is. Some PSU staff can’t handle it. Saying someone is ill because of it causes angst, especially if they”re locked up in that ward.

Our behaviour seems to scare and intimidate some of the nurses, who are caught at a basic mental level – I”m sure they”re useful creative and thoughtful and love their animals when not controlling someone”s cash card or doleing out prescription drugs to unwanting recipients of their sadistic mental health care games.

Advice given by a professional – don”t let them know you”re half smart or the stupid ones will make things difficult for you – obstructionists. Well meaning case managers popping up from nowhere after a week or so and making judgements about your finances and telling me what to do etc. I”m probably twice as qualified as her – the usual problem of treating me as though I”m 10 and taking my life away from me including my cash card as according to them I was too manic to look after my money.

It all started because I lent Ninja my card for pizza money – apparently he could’ve left the country and most PSU staff just couldn’t believe I’d done such a thing. I was hungry and so was he and we ate the pizza – with soft drink. Caused quite a stir and resulted in the Public Trust Fund (PTF) stepping in and trying to take guardianship of my finances through the doctors.

PTF also tried through the Mental Health Tribunal with a dedicated hour at the Magistrates Court. Even my fucked up ex-family members including siblings had a go… even to the point of taking over my mailing address so they can monitor my spending. They receive my statements and I didn’t even know.

They still are and I’m tired of cursing them – Watch out, the PTF is about… blah. I couldn’t pay my rent either as my card had been seized and I was unable to leave PSU. Basically the situation was completely fucked and still is. Wise Sage, my real estate agent (ex cop), knew the situation all too well and assisted.

Do these people have lives” NO THEY FUCKING DON’T. They also undertook a dramatic seizure of my car keys as I swear Wig Girl wrongly dobbed me in for driving on my daily freedom hour. Even got grilled by Cigarette Lady who ‘demanded’ the truth’. Lucky I’d been to a church service with her and Crutch Stick on a Sunday so I’d some extra auto repent up my sleeve although I hadn’t driven… Hang on – is this a syko ward?

Nurses? – get on my nerves as I”m probably the same age as them too and they look like they do. Well that”s their problem and I see the way they get back at me – jealousy is a curse for them (so obvious sometimes you know..). They knew I couldn”t go anywhere but it seems the power had got (still is) in their heads. Some of them are experts at intimidation.

This was noted by one nurse and one other seemed normal. The case manager reminded me of a legal clerk just fresh out of Uni with her newly-gained mature-age entrance degree in mental health care – no idea. Mensa was mentioned but only as a reference to the type of people I”m used to being with and who are in the ward in the past – the whole system is wrong and some PSU staff are scared.

They take away all creativity and, even when it is on, acrylic finger painting is the last thing on the mind – makes everything look like playschool design – or is that the point? As for the “lets cut out pictures from magazines” – therapeutic art time, ‘oh look, she”s reverted to her childhood”… whatever. The music is to be kept down as for some weird reason the purple round nurse (Chiffon”s favourite) insists on locking the doors and taking relaxation classes next to the courtyard.

She”s a worry. If I recall she mumbled something about being an ex-patient or is that the other one – even worse – that place is out of control. Has anything changed since the words mental health and depression were invented by some syke idiot. Reminiscent of Human Resources types along with contracted rehabilitation officers in the workplace. Funnily enough the same personality types in PSU.

There”s not exactly room for creativity – I managed to colour in some bricks with bright oil pastels (gold got nicked – but copper and silver made their marks) and cover the entire blackboard – but Simple Simon cleaned it off. Very odd – sure enough stuff gets stolen but not always – the nurses thrive on the security it entails as they would like to keep each of our objects in separate places, so much so I”ve still $50 in the hospital safe. This means going back and seeing those wonderful faces again – I”m taking someone with me in case they capture me (no kidding – even Vacuum Man suggested it).

Gypsy took a liking to my paintings and has taken some home but insisted on removing all artwork one night and chucking it outside, much to the angst of Crutch Stick who reported her ‘maniac’ behaviour – quite rightly too as she was really pissing me off, but she didn”t have to be HDU”d for over a week because of it…..

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