When I was 8, I decided to try to kill myself because I was edgy and hated myself and listened to too much emo music and ended up in this holding area between the hospital and the mental institution, which also functioned at holding people who were waiting to be processed for either being too crazy to function or for to be put on trial. Yes, I met the mentally and criminally insane. So, there I was, 8 year old me, in this terrible, awkward environment. And I met some actually crazy people.
Like really crazy.
There was this kid who looked like he was about 10 and he thought he was Jesus Christ come again, but he also thought he was a duck, so when I saw him the first time he was under a chair, biting people, quacking, and just generally being a fvcking crazy duck kid. The next time I saw him, he was quoting scripture and blessing people and proclaiming that he was Jesus Christ. But sometimes he liked to be both at the same time and therefore I called him Duck Jesus, and he bit me at one point, so we weren’t friends.
I made friends with a girl though, who was about 15 and she seemed to be pretty put together except that she sort of liked to run away a lot and threaten her family with knives and at one point she actually bit a piece of her sister’s ear off and ate it. But, she always got her boyfriend to bring us McDonalds with our daily phonecall and that was pretty cool. We were friends, I think.
But, that’s pretty much what I set my standard to. I don’t consider myself crazy because I’ve seen crazy. I am nowhere near Duck Jesus or eating ears crazy. I’m just a little manic.
