“A mind of mine that never minds. A word, absurd, you’ve never heard. A genius, they mean this, but they did not know the name, instead, they called me… insane.”
This room is wholly inadequate for someone of my ability, those plebeians had no right to put me here. I could have brought about peace and prosperity if they had only handed me the reigns. Instead, just because an incompetent judge couldn’t understand my vision for the future, I am here. Bridgewater State Hospital is a place meant for those deemed “criminally insane”, a ludicrous title for someone as percipient as myself.
“A murder, they heard her, and took away my name. I hid it, she bit it, but still I got the fame.”
So many pills, a vast collection of the least enjoyable drugs I have tried. They are trying to make me dumb, tear away what makes me superior to them. Everyone here works for the institution I sought to destroy, the doctors, the guards, even the pretty little nurse, all of them pitted against me by the government.
“Rewind my mind, just to kill the time. You heard the story, but don’t you worry, mine is the real deal.”
Skye Christianson was a rich and powerful woman. I met her when my university sent me as their representative to visit her organization. Nearly all who meet me are stunned by my brilliance, and Skye was no different. That visit turned into her asking for advice, which soon became dating, and two years later we married. I had always been a genius, but never had the money or resources required to bring my ideas to fruition. Skye was an excellent source of resources for a time. I exchanged a few hours a week of emulating the loving husband for millions, turned out to be quite the savvy deal.
“Death did us part, I took her heart. She took my name, and I gave her pain. She was a steppingstone meant to crumble.”
We were married for just over 5 years before she started questioning my spending. Buying senators is expensive and eventually it caught her eye. I knew immediately that she would be a problem. Fortunately, I am an expert problem solver. The next day she was to take a flight in our jet to the company’s Houston location. Saboteurs are cheaper than senators, so I hired the very best. As the plane went down the pilot called the air traffic controllers, my wife’s screaming audible in the background, ending with a ball of fire right after she yelled my name.
“Plane drops, then cops. Found the husband was to blame. Wife wouldn’t let me play, I chose to slay, and now I’m locked away.”
The pretty nurse just came by, if she wasn’t actively poisoning me, I’d find her visits entertaining. You can tell she thinks herself important or helpful and the disparity between that and the truth is laughable. Unfortunately, I have yet to find a way to avoid taking these drugs. They make me dumber, softer, and less able to focus. They tell me that it’s “working”. She didn’t stay long, only here to drug me then let me stew in my suffering.
“Can’t write a decent transition right after they give me a dose of those brain-killers, sorry readers”
Did you know that at these hospitals they only let you eat with a spoon? It is rather infuriating only being given tools unsuitable to the task. That’s how it has always been for me though. I just never get to use the proper tools because someone always takes them away. Skye’s money was a good tool, but when I tried to use it to its full potential, I got thrown in here. When I was a kid my parents gave me nothing, had to get through college and pay for everything on my own, lacking the sufficient tools. Now, the one tool I always had, my mind, is being taken away from me. I need the knife and fork, not just a useless spoon.
Been a few months now since I have written in here, just haven’t had the motivation. I guess I’m also falling into a routine. I do the same thing day after day. Wake up, drugs, counselor, eat, meeting, drugs, and then the same boring rotation the next day. I feel feelingless, numb, and unable to concentrate. I’d say it is infuriating, I know it should be, but alas my fury was stolen too.
“Just a shell, no hell, no glory to be gained. Took a bet and lost, my life has been the cost.”
I wonder if anyone will ever read this journal. Reading back through it I can see how much is gone. All that ever mattered was my mind, and they took it. I don’t know if I will ever leave this place, or if I did what would happen to me. Really can’t think that far ahead anymore. I am going to take a break for a while, just don’t see much reason anymore to write this all down. I feel… well, I don’t actually, and I guess that’s the problem.