Across the hall was room 225. I could see it from my bed. I was here because I flipped when my boyfriend broke up with me. I literally flipped my car and flipped my emotions. He loves me. I know it. But he said he would never tell me that again. So, I drove my car into a pole and now I’m in the hospital bed hooked to restraints. The nurse told me they would come off if I showed improvement. My psychiatrist told me otherwise. He came to visit me and I told him to go fuck himself. Guess that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He ordered me more medicine and I ordered the pizza for dinner. Tasted like cardboard but it reminded me of him.
The first date we ever went on was to Carlo’s Pizza. I had a personal pepperoni and he ordered a personal bacon pizza. Meat lovers. We bonded over meat. And then I bonded with his meat. He always told me that I could never be replaced. I wanted to be with him forever. Then he told me that I was crazy. That I wasn’t sane. My actual boyfriend told me this. Can you imagine what I did? I went insane to prove him right.
I followed him when he said he was going to the gym, work, and his parents. I hacked his email. I looked at every text message he sent when he would jump in the shower. Only a boyfriend who had something to hide would tell his girlfriend she was crazy. I even punched myself in the eye and told everyone that he did it but I didn’t want to press charges because he didn’t mean it. He did it out of love. I told my psychiatrist this and more meds came. I’m going to be a zombie by the time I take all the medication they are giving me. Meds for the pain, physical and mental.
I loved him. What was so wrong about loving someone so much? I watched him while he slept just to make sure he didn’t stop breathing. Now that’s love.
We met in our freshman composition class at Harbor Community College. It was love at first write. He wrote about politics and I wrote about religion. We were a match made in Heaven.
I’ll never forget the day he said he wouldn’t love me anymore. Because it was the day I tried to kill him. As I stare at room 225, I wait for the heart monitor to give one last long beep. But I’ll never tell anyone I killed him. I’ll just say I was swerving from a child who was chasing after a ball. They’re going to lock me up anyway. If I say I killed him, jail is where I’m going. I’m going to the looney bin now where they’ll keep drugging me and I can be crazy like he said. Because that’s what his subconscious wanted. I know it.