song// mercury by sleeping at last

word count// 8158

Tae Kwang-

"I don't get why I'm here! I'm not insane!"

"No one said you were. Tae Kwang, you're here because you need to learn how to express your emotions in a healthy manner. That means no capricious behavior."

"Whatever it takes to get out of here."

Boredom. Complete and absolute boredom. For an eighteen-year-old teenager to be stuck in a mental institution unwillingly, boredom was the nice way to put things. The day I was admitted, I had a psych evaluation that I completely bullted. Then except for my phone, everything I brought was confiscated. The institute had such strict rules in place, yet all of the doctors and nurses were always very friendly and smiling all the time. They were trying too hard to make the patients like them. However there was one thing I actually enjoyed. In here, there were people who actually paid attention to me.

The only activities allowed here were exercise, TV, and several computers that restricted too many websites. The afternoons before lunchtime were supposed to be spent in the lounge room with all the other patients, but I never found it much fun. There was no one my age around and when I attempted to chat with the other patients, it was quite difficult without ever bringing up the reason why I was in here.

Every single morning began with my doses of medicine, which I thought had a reverse placebo effect. Then I would change into a clean pair of hospital clothes, despite the fact that it technically was the same outfit every day. My outfit consisted of matching printed white hospital pants and a button up shirt made out of cotton that resembled pajamas and a pair of black rubber slippers.

Rather than to awkwardly sit in the lounge room with no company, I opted to take walks around the garden and then come in for lunch, which eliminated my appetite with its blandness. Meals were always the same in the sense that they tasted terrible every single time, yet I still ate since I was too hungry. After meals were the counseling sessions, where I basically killed time for an hour while sitting in a comfy chair with my lips in a smirk at the doctor. Night would eventually arrive, following the consumption of more pills that actually helped me fall asleep in the stiff and uncomfortable hospital bed. I had a whole month of that until the measure of time finally began to irk me.

The more time I spent in here the more resentful I grew of my father. The only reason I was admitted here was just because my father decided that I should be! He was tired of transferring me from boarding school to boarding school after I kept getting expelled.

At first, the doctors tried to diagnose me, but then they simply gave up by saying that they just needed to keep an eye on me. Following that I had regular blood and urine tests along with brain scans, which only irritated me since I saw no point in the examinations. Then one day, my doctor pulled me away from the leisure activities. As I followed her into the consultation room, I realized what she wanted to tell me. She finally knew what my diagnosis was.

I lowered myself onto the cushioned chair, sitting across from Dr. Ji. I gripped the fabric of my hospital pants in anxiousness. I focused my eyes to the ground. All this time I was aware of the fact that I acted erratically and was impulsive, but to learn that I had an actual disorder changed everything I knew about myself and my behavior.

“I discussed it with my fellows and we came to a conclusion about your diagnosis. Remember that time we put you on watch for forty- eight hours in the white room? That was needed in order to analyze your behavior when alone. Gong Tae Kwang, what you have is what we classify to be Type 2 Bipolar disorder.” As she continued on to explain the symptoms I displayed and the reasons for my sporadic behavior and emotions, I finally knew.

The next morning I was given a different cocktail of drugs meant for specifically my disorder. The treatment plans became more rigid now that the doctors knew how to treat me. Everything made more sense now. Why sometimes I was depressed for months, then suddenly happy, then depressed again. But this terrified me even more, knowing that I had no control over my emotions. I was losing control over my own life. It was one thing to living carelessly, but to live without control would mean that it wasn’t your life anymore.

One day I was notified that I had a visitor. At first I was downright confused, for even my own father didn’t ever visit me so who would it be? It wasn’t like I had any friends or anything. But there is one other person besides my father. My mother.

“Tae Kwang ah, oh look at you. You look awful. I can’t believe your father admitted you here. I had to fight him to know where you were.” They fought again, which didn’t come as a surprise to me since that was all they done every time they arranged a meeting for me.

“I’m sorry that I can’t stay long. My schedule is packed and my manager keeps calling. She doesn’t know I’m here.” The life of a celebrity was what forced my mother away from me. But in the end it was nothing but an excuse for the truth and the truth was that I wasn’t a priority in her life. “I hope you get help from the doctors here and return to your normal life and school.” I noticed how my mother hesitated on how to say goodbye to me and then without another word she picked up her Italian leather handbag and walked away like she always done. I watched silently as my mother walked out of my life yet again for the billionth time. 

Mom, it isn’t the pills that I need, but your love.

Agony etched away at me until the only thing I could perceive was red. Normally I would be picking a fight with Ki Tae in class or stealing my dad’s strongest vodka from the liquor cabinet, but I wasn’t at home. No, I was in the psych ward of a hospital, confined to this floor as a mental patient diagnosed with type 2 Bipolar disorder.

Laughs spilled from the realization how ty my situation was. Then my sardonic laughs turned hoarse and then I choked until wails of sheer anguish ripped out from my throat.

“GET ME OUT OF HERE! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!” I screeched, hitting on the tile bathroom walls with my bare fists till the blood from the torn knuckles flowed. I dropped to the floor with tears streaming down my face. Breathing heavily, I broke out into more tears at how morose my life was.

I was nothing but a ed up teenager whom no one loved.

“Care to explain the cause of your breakdown yesterday?” Dr. Park probed as I sat across from her in a comfortable chair that somehow felt uncomfortable to me. I shrugged at her, not giving her an answer. That was the final straw.

“Tae Kwang, you may not be able to control the actions of the people who hurt you, but you do have control of something. Your life. You can use the time and resources you have here to recover and get out of here or you can continue being the misunderstood boy you are. I know you want to get better. I know you want to feel normal. I’m here for that reason. I can help you, so please just let me help you.” My psychiatrist implored strongly.

I remained indignantly silent.

“What we’re trying to do is help you beat your illness. For the past month I have been making you take your medicine to prevent your brain chemistry from going into overdrive. You, not participating in these sessions is the same as you neglecting your own health.” Neglect. That word struck a cord with me. Neglect. That would be the most suitable word to describe my life. Since the divorce my parents have neglected me. Neglect was the reason why I turned out this way. I resented my parents for the scars they have inflicted upon me. However if I, were to neglect myself, what would that make me?

A locked bathroom door recalled many unpleasant memories for me. When I drank too much to the point I was hung-over I would lock myself in the bathroom and try to sober up by vomiting and the classic wet towel trick. Those memories felt like hell. They were the times I felt physically and emotionally wrecked. Yet, somehow sitting on those cold bathroom floors I felt at ease although I was overcome by lassitude. Because behind that locked door I didn’t have to pretend to be something I wasn’t. As of right now I was emptying my stomach, throwing up the contents of my dinner into the toilet. I slid down the wall, landing on the ground in utter frustration. I carelessly wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, catching my breath. My hand raked through my hair as I bit my lip to the point it started to bleed. I shut my eyes, losing hope of ever recovering. The physical side effects of the medication along with the mess of my mentality were getting too difficult to suppress. I rubbed at my red eyes, standing up to return to my bed before the nurses questioned me again.

I had two more months stuck inside this prison and it was beginning to drive me crazy. Counting down the days till my release wasn’t enough, so I hatched a brilliant plan out of pure impatience. In the middle of the night I sneaked into the kitchen for the biggest cutting board I could find then tiptoed down to the second floor where the janitor’s closet was located to steal some rope. Then I stealthily returned to my room, hid the supplies and went to bed.

“Patient Gong Tae Kwang. Please wake up. It’s time to take your medicine.” Under the watch of the sharp eyes nurse, I threw the pills into my mouth and then gulped down the water while holding the pills underneath my tongue. Once she left the room I spat the pills away in the bathroom rubbish bin and prepared my escape plan.

I successfully made it up to the rooftop where I assembled my escape route. I tied the thick rope around the cutting board, which would become my seat and then double knotted the rope to a rail on the rooftop. For a split second I actually worried about getting rope burns. Looking over the ground on top of the roof of the hospital, a laugh escaped my lips.

Let’s do this.

“Patient Gong Tae Kwang! Please listen to me and get off of that! You’re going to get hurt!” My primary nurse screamed, leaning over the railing as she watched me with fear growing in her eyes.

“Who cares?” I shouted back, laughing amusingly as I dropped further down along the side of the hospital building.

“Please stop whatever you’re trying to do! I’ll take responsibility for everything, so please-“

"If I die will you take responsibility for me?”

“Yes I will, so please!”
 

“Wait a minute! Isn't it pointless to do so after I'm already dead?" There was a biting edge to my voice despite the jaunty expression I wore.

“Yes! I will take responsibility!” She was getting desperate now. She couldn’t have a patient’s life on her hands.

“But what’s the point of taking responsibility after I’m dead? That’s just pointless!” I shouted, lowering myself to the seventh floor now. I heard the shrieks and worried chatter of the nurses and doctors on the rooftop, knowing that although they said that they cared that they never did to begin with.

Like my parents have said, my existence was a mistake. I recalled the last words I told my father before getting admitted here. “If I’m such a nuisance to you why shouldn’t I just die then?” Were the words I screamed in his face before his hand collided with my already maimed face from a fight I instigated in class.

I guess, I wasn’t born to be loved.

I controlled my balance by keeping my feet pressed against the building walls as I lowered myself down to the seventh floor on the makeshift seat. I glanced up from the impending ground to see a girl that appeared my age, reading a book on her hospital bed. Frankly, it was as if I was compelled to her. I rapped on her window, attaining her attention. Her round eyes widened once she discerned me. Putting on a smile, I waved at her. The book fell from her hands, which I noticed had scrapes on them.

I was close to losing my grip on the rope from the sweat accumulating onto my hands. In that moment I felt fear in the most transparent way. I was about to fall to my death. Just then the pernicious consequences of my escape plan instilled my brain, inducing me to freeze. However there was a truth to it behind this chaos. This is how I planned on dying. Taking my own life would be simply too tragic and I would receive useless sympathy from those who didn’t care about me. But if my death was an accident that occurred during my escape plan, then no one would know it was suicide and just pity my father.

In that moment my mind finally grasped the fact that I was falling to my death, provoking a dissension between the part of me that wanted to live and the part of me that wanted to die. I was completely torn, yet terrified in the face of death. My eyes shut as the film roll of my life that was my brain was rewinding back to my most painful memories where I sustained the scars I have now. My eighth birthday where I wasn’t showered with love, but showered with sadness over my parents’ divorce. The time my mom walked out of the house with her suitcases in hand and never came back. The time my dad slapped me for the first time. The time I realized that I was a complete mess. The memories played but then like a dream they diminished into jet black as I heard my own voice screeching at me with words of hope.

If I tried to get better, take my medicine, forgive my parents, and then maybe things will get better. Life wouldn’t be so awful anymore. But I was exhausted of trying and trying only for nothing to improve.

Hope. What was the point of living everyday, feigning optimism and pretending to be jovial when in fact it is nothing but a lie? There is no point! I have become an expert in hiding my true emotions and putting up walls and wearing a guise of nonchalance. None of that has amounted to anything. Besides no one would miss me. Hope? My .

Hope is for ers.

I acquiesced, gradually letting go…

“Grab my hand!” My eyes jolted open at the sound of her voice laced with panic. Her fingers tightly clutched mine in such trepidation. This girl. The girl whom I didn’t have a name for. This girl who was lending me her hand during one of the most daunting moments of my life. The girl who, in the face of terror had hope in her eyes. To me she was an enigma.

Our eyes met and the softest of a gasp escaped my lips as it dawned on me…

She was hope.

Due to the staff barging in and taking me out I didn’t have the greatest opportunity to learn her name. I was injected with sedatives and then woke up from a drug-induced state to find myself back in my room on lockdown.

After the stunt I pulled I was stripped away of my leisure time activities and was prohibited from leaving my room for an entire week. Two weeks passed before I was able to see that particular girl again.

From there on, I became hypomanic, which Dr. Ji explained to me that it was a period of time where I felt uncontrollably happy. I was surging with boundless energy, didn’t feel the need to sleep or eat, and I was up to pranking antics. I felt good until Dr. Ji informed that it was important for me to remain rested. Although I wasn’t hungry or sleepy, the nurses came to assure me to go to bed or eat my meals.

I was active and during sessions with the doctors, my words would trip over and come out rapidly. It felt abnormal. The doctors switched my pills, regulated my sleep schedule, coaxed me into eating, gave me a jump rope to spend my energy on, and prevented me from any stimulation, which included watching TV in the recreational room.

My hypomanic episode lasted for four and a half weeks until my moods became steady. Following that, my drug combination was altered yet again.  

"Tae Kwang, how are you today?"

"For the first time, I felt how it feels like to be alive."

"Can you describe that feeling for me?"

"Shocking. Desperate. Exhilarating. All at once. The feeling amazed me. So is this what it feels like to be alive?"

"Yes. Yes it is."

Lee Eun Bi.

That was the name of the girl who saved my life. Ever since I met her something has changed because for once, I had a genuine friend. She would share with me her music, letting me listen with her sometimes when we sat out in the garden.

She was sitting on a wooden bench in the colorful garden with her ear buds in. I sat down on the hard wooden bench beside her, taking an ear bud out of her ear and popped it into mine. She was startled at first but then raised the volume for the both of us to listen.

I turned to the side to look at her, noticing several bruises and cuts on her face healing. Her hands were scraped up too. My head cocked to the side, wondering what happened to her that caused her to sustain those injuries.

Eun Bi was just another patient like me in the psych ward with counseling sessions, strict regulations, treatment hours, and pills that she needed to take, but that was not the reason I started to appreciate her company. I appreciated her because she listened. I would be sitting next to her, rambling on for hours about some of the most idiotic things, but then she laughed.

She laughed.

Because of me. I made her laugh!

Then it was that moment when I realized how truly beautiful she was. Her eyes were lit up as she giggled at my jokes and from then I told her all kinds of jokes just to see her laugh, for she looked breathtakingly stunning when she did.

Soon I began to le