Thanks for the welcome Sara, though I don't think I ever metcha. It's really cool that this space exists...thanks webmistress, even though you're about to stop drivin' the bus. It's a damn good thing you done!
It made me really sad to look at the list of names and see all the R.I.P.'s, to think of all the kids that never got to wake up from a long, surreal, and often frightening dream.
The thought of Mrs. Smith being held up as an example of strength and virtue, because she wouldn't have contact with her son, though he was dying, still chills me. I didn't understand it then, still don't. It just doesn't make sense.
This guy told us the world was a dichotomy.
Even as a 16 year old, I knew that kind of philosophy only works in a vacuum. What were we supposed to do when we got out? Oh, that's right, we were never really supposed to get out. Not while the insurance companies were still payin'.
Does anyone remember that first week? All dazed, starting to realize that there were more than a few "patients" who'd been there for over two years? Three? Four?!?! Five?
That you'd just become one of them? That there was something in this world called a "behavior problem"? How hard it was to choke down that fucking giant portion of sauerkraut the first time you had it? Looking around, watching kids make the same meal vanish, and realize that they're starving us? I still remember my intake, looking into the kid's eyes and thinking, "These guys are crazy. Fuckin' crazy."
And I was there during the wussy years. Only got beaten on a coupla times, an' it wudn't all that bad. It just sucks to not be able to defend yourself due to sheer numbers.
Well, I'd like to apologize to everyone I hurt while I was at kids. To the Hills for almost robbing them of a son, for punching people in the face(why the fuck were you poking me anyway, pay attention to the rap ya kissass...haha,) to the kids I restrained with malice and intent to cause suffering, to the people whose property I damaged (mostly windows, natch) to the newcomers I copped out on, and most of all to Jim, for helping to foil his copout attempt. Man, to you I am sooo sorry, I shoulda just gone with you, instead I got T&R fer bein' a good doggie. Ruff.
Seriously, I met some good people in that fucked up place and I'd sure like to meet you again, in a more relaxed environment. To be clear, I drink and smoke, when I want to. If that's a problem, I guess I'll understand.
To all of you whose chose the sober life, good for you. It ain't fer me.
I'd still like to talk to ya.
I read in one of the strings about a proposed reunion of sorts...still happening?
With love and wonder,
Amos.
