Terrance Stone
It’s been three months since my parents left me here at Wellington Asylum. The best thing about it is I get plenty of rest. I get shots that calm me down and pills. Lots of pills. I’m always eager to take them. I’m sixteen, but in here there is no age. I have not improved, or so the doctors say, but I find my life is more stress-free than ever.
Back in my old life, grades, girls, right and wrong, it all disappears here. There is no standard.
My next door neighbor is a vegetable; no one expects him to get up and quote Shakespeare. I hope he does wake up, though. It sucks to just lie around and wait to die…
For me, the reason I’m here, I have lapses in memory. I forget what happened 5 seconds before I “wake” up. Or at least that’s how I think of it. My doctors say I have multiple personalities. I don’t really know what that means.