Disconnected, racing thoughts passed through her mind. Will I die today? Will they let me out? She looked up and stared at the ceiling. She then looked over to the small bedside table that they had provided her, and saw the medicine cup filled with lithium. She remembered where she was and why she was there. She then said to herself, “Is all this a dream or a nightmare?” She could never tell, for she was in an insane asylum, barely living with severe manic depression.

Sometimes, she wanted to die, at others she longed to be free. She didn’t think it was fair that she was here, for almost everyone has these thoughts eventually. The only difference was that she could switch from one thought to the other, without any reason or feeling, in seconds.

The people who ran the insane asylum were cruel. She was losing weight rapidly because instead of lunch, they’d bring her lithium. If it had been up to her, she would have killed herself long ago.
Six long years ago, at the age of eighteen, she had been admitted to the insane asylum for her severe manic depression. With its eggshell white walls and six stories, the asylum had seemed so big to her back then. She laughed in spite of herself. The rooms were too small, maybe five by ten feet, to hold human life. The asylum reminded her of a very cramped apartment building.

The nurse walked in, and in an obviously fake cheery tone said, “Have you taken your medicine?” The girl hadn’t. The nurse forced her to take the medicine and left. “Why are the people here so stupid?” she asked herself. “I’m no doctor, and even I know you’re not supposed to take lithium without food.”
She had found out, at the age of eleven, that she had severe manic depression. She had ninety percent of the symptoms. She had also read up on the medication, lithium. This was how she knew that you’re not supposed to take lithium without food.  She also knew that doing this increased the severity of the side effects.
She found herself thinking about death often, even when she tried not to. On the other hand, she also thought about life. She always saw both sides of death and life, no matter what mood she was in. In her mind, the world was a cold, desolate place with nothing to offer.
When she was little, she always had something to do, arts, crafts, writing, and things like that. She thought about all of her life… and her death. She often wondered what her death would be like. When she was eleven, she always pictured her death as her killing herself and the people nearby in a school shooting.
She laughed. Now she was in her manic state, a state of pure elation. She remembered all her crushes in middle and high school. She also remembered her love and care for one of her boyfriends, the last and best she ever had. He had been a sweet, caring boy. He had stayed by her side, even after they broke up.
She sighed and stared at the ceiling once again. Her manic states were often short; this one was no different. Her depression returned. She would never see her boyfriend again. He had moved to Washington State, and he was there to stay. He’d never take the time to visit her. She had never even had a visitor.
The next day, she was complaining of horrible stomach pain. The nurse came to look at her to see what was wrong, but she couldn’t tell. She couldn’t stand the pain it was so unbearable. Yet the nurse never called a doctor. It was as if the nurse wanted her to die.
The next morning at six fifteen, she died from a kidney disease. It was an increased side effect caused by not taking lithium with food. Everyone assumed that she hadn’t eaten on her own free will because she was ‘suicidal’. The asylum encouraged the idea. Thanks to this, the insane asylum was never blamed for her death, and the asylum continued to ‘cure’ mental illnesses.

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