WARD D-20

After some negotiation, the nice people in the white coats allow me out into the general area of the hospital.

I pump coins into the public internet access point, check my eBay, email and social media, and notice that i am still nobody's best friend on Facebook and that my popularity level is still firmly fixed at zero.

Thursday night, i lie awake, worried for my personal safety as i listen to an unending torrent of abuse and threats from the patient in the bed next to me. On the other side of a thin fabric screen, an unidentified male person with an anger problem is saying i am a no-good piece of shit, a lowlife c*nt, a whole lot of other of unpalatable things which i will not repeat here. This is doing my self esteem no good whatsoever, i think. Tomorrow i'm asking for a transfer to another madhouse. After about half an hour, i realise he is not intending to follow through on any of his threats to f*cking kill me, and, judging by the extended pauses, is probably talking on a mobile phone to somebody else. Perhaps to someone he wants to kill because of an unpaid drug debt, or perhaps for murdering his brother. The reason for his extended vituperative outpouring is never made explicit. He continues for four hours or so, then drops into a fitful sleep, snoring loudly. This morning he continues his threats and insults on his way to, from, and during his shower. I notice he is not carrying a phone. I realise he is merely talking to himself, outpouring all his random, rabid thoughts into a vacuum.

Hmmm. It's a bit like using Facebook, really.

Avid reader, if ever i should become so crazy that i start walking around talking to myself, remind me to buy one of those bluetooth mobile phone earpieces and stick it in my ear. One must, after all, always strive to maintain one's dignity.