I can feel myself reaching my limit.  I need to get out of here.

I am tired of the poking and prodding.  I am tired of boiled vegetables and plastic sauces.  I am tired of the ringing bells and the smell of sanitizer.  I am tired of the vague answers and strange faces staring down.  I am tired of being treated like a science specimen waiting to be dissected.

I am a human being.  I need nurture and care.  I need to have a voice.  I need to have a choice.  I need to be in control of my own body.

I need to get out of here.

I can feel my emotions starting to boil to the surface.  I can feel the tears constantly burning behind my eyes.  I don’t want to fall back down my rabbit hole.  I’m standing on the edge.  I’m peering down.  I can see the blackness.  I can feel the blackness pulling me towards it.  I can feel it pulling me down into it’s damp dark depths.  I’m on the edge.

I don’t want to fall back down my rabbit hole.  I don’t want to collapse and give in.  But I’m struggling.  I’m struggling out here in the light.  It’s hurting me.  I’m confused.  I’m scared.  I don’t know what’s going on.  My results are bad.  They’re all concerned.  They’re confused.  They’re inflicting more pain.  More tests.  More needles.  More shaking of the head.

Talk me to me.  Tell me what you know.  Tell me what you don’t know.

I need to get out of here.  Why am I am back here?  How did this happen?

Beige walls are closing in on me.  A place of illness and death is not my sanctuary.

Hospital hell.