I was committed

When I was first admitted, I didn’t know what to make of the place. It all felt a little odd to me, but I was committed by now. Where else was I going to go?

Cuckoo!A girl sits rocking back and forth in the corner. One of the people who worked here was trying to coax a disoriented man up off the floor. Another older man lies on his back, trying to swing his legs over his body in a very peculiar way — he does this maybe 20 times before he stands up, quite normally, as though it never happened. I know the staff is there to keep the inmates from hurting themselves, and sure it’s better they’re here than out on the streets, but you can still see the hollow look in their eyes. When not being coralled by the staff, or daydreaming in their own worlds, the committed mill about, looking with vacant stares, but still careful to avoid eye contact.

I suppose I’m still adjusting to life at the insane asylum athletic club.

By Tim

An animator, video producer, Lego artist, and author—I am moderately skilled at a lot of different things.