It's louder here

It's louder here

It's louder here.
I think, as I shed a tear. 

A bigger crowd.

Sometimes it's overwhelming, too loud. 

You are more aware of illnesses here.

Of people living in constant fear.

A fear of what's next, who will go. 

They can't do it anymore, putting on a show. 

There's section 2's, section 3's 

And informal patients, only 3 of these. 

People hurt themselves a lot. 

You have to create an inner cheerleader, a mascot. 

The sound of banging, either of a fist or someones head is normal. 

There's barely anyone here who is informal. 

The alarm will go off and people will run in.

Then theres the patients who follow, some of them all in a spin.

People queue for breakfast, lunch and tea. 

All people want here is to be free.

Free in mind and soul and free from it all. 

You so enjoy the conversations when your best friend gives you a call.

People don't want to be here, they compare it to prison. Trapped. 

Our brains each being attacked.

Attacked by mental illness. 

In constant fear that this illness will, one day, kill us. 

Part 2 of this inpatient journey, it's just as hard. 

Despite the kind thoughts, prayers and each and every card.

For which I am full of thank yous. 

This is a war, I have to tell myself, a war which I REFUSE TO LOSE. 

This is all very hard to deal with.

Hard to explain.

Hard to comprehend. 

My brain hurts. 

I don't know what else to say.

For today. 


Written by Steph Corris - May 2019 - whilst inpatient