I don't remember enough to give a vivid description of the man that was asking me what I took and why I took them and how many I had taken, but I can tell you that he seemed genuinely concerned about my being there.
"Jesus, look at her arm. Take a picture." He acted as if these chicken scratches were the worst he had ever seen.
As he gave me pamphlets to read and worksheets to sign, his voice became distant. I became focused on the sea of white that surrounded me. The doors, walls, tables, tiles, everything reeked with the color. I hated it.
"Stand up and let's get a picture." I looked at him with discomfort. "It's for our records." I never saw the picture, but I smiled. I don't know why I did either. There was nothing to smile about, really. I made an idiot out of myself in front of so many people and I was humiliated. I was ashamed. I didn't try hard enough.
I picked up the pile of papers and pamphlets and wobbled towards my room. This was the first night in a long time I slept comfortably. I didn't think at all, I just slept.
I woke up the next day with a sense of loss. I didn't get out of my assigned bed and I didn't eat anything. I felt like throwing up and the idea of shoving food down my mouth forced me to curl up into a ball. I guess another reason why I didn't leave my room was because I was scared I was going to be asked why I was there. I didn't want anyone to know what I had done and I didn't want to talk to anyone because I knew that whatever urged me to do what I did wasn't that big of a deal. I felt like the new kid in school and plus, I looked horrible. My hair was fading from a lavish blue to puke green, it was messy and long. My lips were purple with blue hues, my face was extremely pale and my eyes were empty.
