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Welcome To St. B's!
St. Benedict's Home for the Mentally Unfit and Addicted
St. Benedict's was originally an asylum established in the early 1850s. It was named after the patron saint of mental illnesses. As the times changed so did St. B's. Slowly over the years, St. B's became less like an asylum and more like a rehab center. The administration began accepting residents with server addictions between the ages of 20 and 30. It became much less church oriented, but still keeps its name out of respect to its history. These days there's a lot more to the halls of St. Benedict's than just junkies and psychos ... what exactly goes on is something you'll just have to find out on your own.
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 -`russian roulette
| Mannix Ross |
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buried my cross with my rose
Group: Members
Posts: 27
Member No.: 14
Joined: 25-August 08
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You're Dead to Me. In so many more ways than one.
I can't help but wonder, Mom, if you're looking down at me, maybe watching over me. Or up at me, considering Dad says you're in hell since you committed suicide - a sin and all that, you know. Whichever. And I wonder if you might be doing better than you were here on earth. I can't decide. I'd certainly like to think so; it'd be a comfort knowing that the pain you caused your family was worth it. That you're happier now, now that you're free of the stress of being a wife and mother and you no longer have responsibilities. I mean, look at what all you triggered when you took too many of those damned pills. Dad isn't exactly... healthy. He over works himself trying to keep up the bills, take care of my sisters - your daughters -, and keep me in Saint Benedict's. Zoey is starting on her master's degree, but she's struggling with her grades now. Dad says she falls into a depression after every time she visits me. Maybe it's because we were close as kids, I don't know. Maybe it's because she thinks I look like you. And Daphne, poor kid. She's never been... quite okay. She took it almost as hard as I did, even though she's the youngest. That doesn't make much difference, I guess. Only two years younger than I am.
Now look at what you've done to me. You triggered this... this disease in me. This disorder, with your death. It's not a genetic thing, generally. It's caused by trauma; the mind makes more... personalities in order to protect itself. Almost like when you lose consciousness, except it's a whole other side of you taking over. But you know about that all too well - you suffered from it too. So you understand how awful it is to lose chunks of time and not knowing what you did in those periods. You understand what it's like to not really trust yourself. Yeah. Can you sense the bitterness any?
I love you, Mom. But you're killing me with you, from the inside.
{ n i x |
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Talk to Tin if you want to add a song. <3
