Test The Levels Of Insanity

From The Point Of View Of Ssiva (Main Character)

A year ago, if you had told me that I would end up in a rehabilitation center during the annual festival, I would have taken it as a jest and not believed it at any cost. However, now that, one year later, I really am here, inside a well-known rehabilitation center and mental hospital in the city, have no choice but to take it seriously what I would have otherwise taken as a jest.

Sitting in front of two nurses and a psychiatrist in the clinical room, I recalled everything that had happened during the last few months, especially considering my actions during the past one month precisely. Just thinking about everything that had previously occurred made my head ache to stop which, I closed my eyes.

The psychiatrist took a look at me from head to toe before turning to my parents, who stood behind me and asked, "How old is he?"

"Will turn eighteen the next month," my father replies instantly.

‘"Will he?" He asked with a fit of laughter before continuing, "At first glance, you’d think he’s an elementary school student," he stated while taking another look at me, his laughter now reducing to giggles, only to revive the laughter once again.

The room fell into an awkward silence instantly.

Such a crap of joke was never encountered by any one of the other five people, including me, present in the room during all the years spent on earth.

Even though I have not taken a look in the mirror for a couple of months or so, I still know in no way I would be mistaken for an elementary school kid; I know my built.

Two nurses, who stood by each side of the psychiatrist, glance at each other before flashing an awkward smile towards me. One of the nurses, Nurse A asked me, ‘Are you nervous?’

I was taken aback at the sudden words of concern from nurse and then noticed that I have started visibly trembling slightly.

‘No,’ I answered.

I hope they don’t call me out for it.

‘Well, you can relax a bit. Do not take much stress, Wipe away your tears,’ said the other nurse, Nurse B.

Tears? What tears? Seems like I am tearing up once again.

‘Do I look like a crybaby to you?’ I asked glaring at the nurses loosing my actual polite self for a moment. It took a moment or two for me to recover my polite and respectful self as consciousness hit me again.

‘Sorry...’

The psychiatrist laughed at my small apology and said to my dad, ‘Your son has got a bad temper, too? No need to worry, though. We guide him through it as well.’

He turned to me and asked, ‘What is your name?’

‘Ssiva...’

‘Full name? Write it down here,’ He handed over a form to me.

As I wrote my name on the name blank, he continued trying to engage in a chat with me.

‘You’re in high school?’

‘Second year, senior high...’

‘Do you get along well with your classmates? I heard you have lots of friends...?’

‘Yeah...’

Yes, I did have lots of friends; friends with classmates, friends with underclassmen, friends with upperclassmen...all over, I was really social and never lacked the presence of people around me, always surrounded by them, took them for granted... They used to compliment; compliment on my personality, my sense of humor, my liveliness, my beauty, my intelligence, my talents...yes, all over, it was as if I was born to be a subject of being complimented.

The overachiever me was way better than this loser of myself that sat in this damned building.

I had always considered that the best feeling in the world would be running towards the finishing line like no tomorrow under the wide sky with all the people from the audience cheering for me as the first place awaited me to claim its ownership. t

How did I get used to not being the sprinter that I used to be?

I was not used to not being a sprinter. Maybe that is the reason why I lost my mind, went full eccentric, and now, I’m here in a rehabilitation and mental hospital.

"Am I actually crazy?" I asked all of sudden, gaining everyone’s attention at once.

The psychiatrist chuckled.

At this point, his bits of laughter started getting on my nerves so much that I started contemplating whether I should throw the chair I was seated on at him.

Leaning towards me on the table, he threw my question at my own self, "You say...do you think you are crazy?"

The self-acknowledgment of the fact that I am crazy overshadowed my egoistic urge to say ‘no’.

I know it. I have lost my mind.

I also acknowledge that I have completely changed from my past self. The gap between the past me and the present me is too broad but somewhere, my past self lingers around my present self that it makes me uncomfortable. Is it the regret for the fact that my life has gone south and no one else except me, is responsible for it? Maybe it is a big regret but even if the regret is big, is there something I can do?

I can not even control myself...

“I see, you are in deep thought. Don’t overthink. You’re not crazy, okay?” said the psychiatrist.

Heh, consolation...

I could not restrain myself from blurting out, "Ten bucks bet, you can’t give me a proper explanation why I am here, then. ”

Ignoring my question, he continues, “You are alright. Just in need of some guidance. We will help.”

Yeah, exactly what you get paid for. Exactly why you are here. Exactly why I am here. Exactly why this is called a ‘rehabiliation center and mental institution’.

"You seem really down."

As if anyone else wouldn't react like this if they chanced to dragged from the comfort of their home by two beasts of guards to an unkown prison-like place.

"I heard you cried and screamed all the way here from home."

After all, it was my mentally ill ass who dragged me here...

"You are tearing up again. Tell me, is there something wrong? Should I stop talking?"

"Please do so," my voice was hoarse from holding back the unstable water dam.

Wiping off the already fallen drops of the dam, I continued, ‘You guys...Five of you all and no one hears me. It’s like being left on “read” in a group chat.’

Did I just say that aloud?

The psychiatrist looks somewhat taken away from my straightforwardness but he still manages to stay put, ‘Okay, then let’s continue chatting some other time. The nurses will take you to your living dorm. Go, get some rest.’

The unstable dam is damned; flood is inevitable.