I Hate The White

Why did they choose white.
I can’t even sit in a new, freshly “neutral” white painted. apartment for 5 minutes, without the greatest feeling of discomfort anymore.
Hospitals, Institutions, Doctors, Lights, all rooms and hallways, even the freaking beds and gowns and the stupid little wristbands…

Waking up, and the first thing you see is that awful white ceiling, blinking your eyes just to make sure it’s real, because it’s not the ceiling you saw when you closed your eyes. A slight panic might creep up, how can that be?, “where am I?”
Turning your head around, just to pan over more of the white, walls, sheets, equipment. Made even more bright by the light bouncing all over, lights turned on, even tho the sun is up, combined lighting up the entire room like you are inside one giant light bulb.
Hell, even the restraints has some white on them..

Restraints… the mere notion is ridiculous: Need restraints to ensure no harm, yet not allowed to stay restrained for longer than X amount of time, even to prevent said “harm” anyway.. pointless.. stupid… measures put in place just to be able to self comfort the ignorant, “we did something”.

Doctors, and their “cool” white coats. The ultimate symbol of arrogance. Made more frustrating by the shared symbol with care, because of the sincere desire for some to try and genuinely help.
Even with the openly admitted statement “we don’t fully understand how the mind works” and the “that’s why a lot of meds often doesn’t work on most people (50% or less)”
Still she sits there, more arrogant than the others, because for some reason those facts doesn’t apply to that field, and psychiatry is suddenly an exact and sure fired science with no secrets to them or undiscovered possibilities. Go ahead lady, tell me something I don’t already know, or something I haven’t been told before, maybe even something I can’t look up on the web in this age? No? didn’t think so.
Sitting there, proud, in her white coat, the status of her work and achievement of her vast knowledge. The arrogance.

Left in the white room, with the occasional beep from the white machines, staring up at the white ceiling again, almost starting to feel snow blindness is eminent.
White door opens and nurse in her white clothes enters, checking up on things, specially the white ones. While the equally white dressed orderly stands in the doorway, ready, just in case I misbehave in whatever way they deem that might be displeasing.
Funny, if I didn’t know I couldn’t tell them apart other than gender, well placed stereotypical gender roles works very well for this uniform white scenario.

More tests in white machines, followed by more drugs, those pretty little white pills, wait a blue one sneaked in there, so that’s not mine, should take it, just for the laugh of it. More white food, in white trays with white plastic cutlery, drinking milk from a white plastic cup.

As the days pass everything starts to blend in, you stand in a corridor and you feel like you’re in a science fiction “jump to light speed” scene. With every little white dressed person blending together and each of the white dots they are become one long beam of white, that just goes on forever and pass around you as you move through space. With everything speeding by as if time moved faster for them, all while it slowed down for you.

My chest itches, those little shaved spots, for the sticking electrodes, another uncomfortable white necessity.

The first thing I do leaving, is to tear off that stupid little white band, another token for a job “well done”. I know some keep them, for what ever reason. I hate it. It reminds of everything I hate, it’s the symbol of how wrong I am. The littler reminder that I need to be fixed in order to fit in with the rest of the world, the way they see how it should be. And that’s not me.
So they test, prod and poke, give me little white pills, put me in little white rooms as they tell me little white lies. Because I’m wrong.

If I’m that wrong for you, you shouldn’t try to fix me. Discard the broken product I am, if my flaws is such, throw me out as you would a broken white plate.

I take some comfort in, I don’t get a “white light” to follow. None of the times as I remember, not even the times I flatlined. If it’s just a myth I don’t know. Doesn’t matter to me, I’d just dislike the white of it.

My doctor want’s to commit me again. Proof of life isn’t really enough for him anymore. I play my part, keep up appearances to give as little reason as possible. Despite the past, he can’t commit me until he has a valid reason. He can’t tell anyone either, not that it stops him rules or not. But as long as i keep up appearances and act right, they can’t force me back in the white Hell yet.

They want to, and they try. because that just what I “need”. The constant pressure, the threat of what I hate most, their pointless temporary little white prison.
I should just act up enough, misbehave just right, so they got a reason to “fix” me nice and proper and be the way they want. Not that a lobotomy is done these days, but they might as well just do it anyway, so they can make me nice and perfect, then maybe I can fit in their world.

Quite hilarious, in my language the lobotomy is called “The White Cut”
…everything is just white

My doctor will come and knock on my door again, he always does, each time more pushy and demanding. The fact that he makes these little unpaid home visits after hours, shows he is one of those who care. But still, it’s because I’m wrong and need to be made “right”.

As long as I don’t slip up and give him a reason, he can’t make me go back, yet.
Almost messed up a few days ago. His visit caught me by surprise due to the late time.
Doing my thing, his knocks got more heavy and impatient, so I rushed out to open, having not secured the bandage proper, I could feel some blood starting to run slowly down my leg from the cuts. I thought this was it, messed up and he will notice and have his reason.
Luckily i managed to excuse my self with that I was sleeping and got quickly in bed, hiding everything under the covers before he got to discover. Being late it was a quicker check up, and didn’t rouse that much suspicion.
I was so afraid that was it and he had seen. I expected later to be met with the two white dressed orderlies, and the little white van, to take me again. Didn’t though, just reminded me I have to be careful so they don’t get a reason.

I never want to go back there to all the white