Ficlets

In the Psychiatric Unit -- Amanda's Notebook

I think I want out of here. I didn’t think there was really anything wrong with me—but apparently these people do. And they said we were supposed to write in these notebooks. And bring them to group. But I hate writing. I don’t know what to write. How about this: Please, please, let me out!

I just want to go home. My boyfriend would know what to do. I think What I mean is Kerri says my boyfriend never knew what to do. Shows how much she knows.

God, I don’t even know anymore. I hate it here. Dang, all thse cross offs are getting on my nerves. I can’t right write. Even if I was good at writing, I couldn’t write in here. They’re going to read it. I think that may be a breach of my constitutional rights.

To Kerri: If you’re reading this, please, please, let me out!

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