antipolar

I was screaming. Helpless. Sad.   But on the outside I was giggling. My manic phase hit me hard. There I was, en route to the psychiatric ward. Without me knowing what was going to happen for the next half-decade. That my life would just be THIS. I was just a child who didn't even take the bus to school. I always got from one point to another with either mom or my grandfather behind the wheel in a little Japanese auto. I was taken from my bedroom, sedated with a needle, and strapped to a stretcher. I was finally placed inside an (unlocked) padded room. Then I was awaken. My mom had followed the ambulance in the car, I could see that before I nodded off to sleep.   Comically I was placed in a wheelchair, and wasn't allowed to decline the service. Two orderlies: muscular, tanned, evidently homosexual males were on either side of me and grasped my teenage self tight. I then realized I had been wheeled into the neuro-psychiatric ward of a premier (but the walls were leak...