A new sample from Cyclops I am especially proud of. Every night we discussed our goals, our successes and our failures. These conversations often affirmed our efforts, but occasionally the real pain would erupt from us like pus from a zit under pressure.
This is the beginning of one such eruption.
A new tech arrives for our daily debriefing. We make the rounds. Yawns erupt and people confess to their daily sins and triumphs. Most of us achieve our goals. The few who don’t are encouraged. The tech tonight is an elderly man, gaunt as fuck and sporting thick glasses that could start a fire with nothing but a nightlight. His voice is heavy, but he speaks slowly and its buttery tone reminds me of Breakfast.
Randy’s goal was to get through a day without crying. He failed. It was Allison’s fault.
Matthew Wanted to eat in the cafeteria and not subsist on vending machine snacks. He succeeded but still ate Cheezits eight times today.
Molly wanted to go an entire day without Masturbating. She failed.
I wonder how Molly strategizes a failure of that magnitude when the bathrooms and bedrooms have no doors..
Jamal wanted to cuss out Jennifer. That was a resounding success.
I went to therapy. I have some ideas for goals tomorrow. I am kicking ass at this mental hospital thing.
Allison doesn’t want to talk. She cracks her long fingers and winces. Her arthritis is getting worse and these assholes can’t get her medication right. The tech presses. He adjusts his glasses and frowns. She needs to discuss her goal for the day. The tears flood across her nose and down to her lips. A damn bursts within her and all the hurt bleeds out.
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