madness p2
Okay, so it'll be awhile before the text gets too long. I am probably killing the buffer or something, I dunno. So my parents piled me into the car and drove me out to Whitby, a regional psychiatric hospital in Ontario, one town over from my home town. We drove a long gravel avenue past the grounds, typically pastoral with trees, and trees lining the road, but no hedges or bushes to screen the view. I looked out and saw autistic people rocking themselves on the lawn among other figures, most of them looking hunched and bloated and grey. I think it must have been evening, it was twilight. The rest of it, the boring cement rooms with furniture, the desk and the test and the friendly guy in the coat passing evil judgement on me were unimpressive. Well, I didn't appreciate the guy saying there was nothing wrong except I wasn't trying hard enough. But I believed him! he was the expert! He said I was just lazy and if I tried harder, I'd d...