quinnessential

[quinnessential]

Tuesday, March 14, 2017; 9:30 pm

They let me call James. He didn’t answer. I didn’t really expect him to. James never answers calls from numbers he doesn’t recognize so I left a message. Maybe He’ll call back. I really want to talk to him. I miss my best friend.

[quinnessential]

Monday, March 13, 2017; 9:30 pm

My therapist thinks talking to Harley would be a good idea. He thinks it should be supervised though. He’s afraid that if I meet with her alone I might relapse. I don’t think that’s true but I don’t really have a choice anymore. Now that I’m here, now that I’ve admitted to having a problem with addiction, I’ve given up the right to make up my own decisions. I’ve proven that I can’t be trusted to make good decisions. Until I prove that I can be a good lap dog, I can’t make my own decisions.

I feel like a child. I’m almost sixteen. I’m practically an adult. I should be able to decide who I talk to and how. I’m not some kid who needs a babysitter.

If Phil was still here, she wouldn’t even be a problem. This is all his fault! He left me to deal with everything all on my own. How dare he take the easy way out and leave me here to deal with everything! I could barely deal with anything when he was by my side. Now I have to deal with all of my stuff as well as being the dead guy’s boyfriend. Does he have any idea what he did to me? Not only am I Quinn the queer but now I’m the guy who’s boyfriend killed himself. I heard the rumors. People think Phil hated dating me so much that he took his own life. I bet James started that one too.

What the fuck is James’ problem? So what if I’m gay? So what if I date boys? We have been friends forever. That should be enough to get him past it. It’s not like I hit on him! 

Wait, is that what he’s afraid of?

I need to talk to James.

[quinnessential]

Sunday, March 12, 2017; 9:30 pm

Spent the morning, after group, painting with Rain. Today I worked on a painting about Harley. I honestly didn’t think she had impacted me that much. I decided to spend my individual on talking about her. Turns out, I’m not mad at her at all. I used her and her drugs as an escape. I didn’t want to deal with Phil’s death and what it meant. She was a distraction. I really should apologize for what I did to her. I mean, we did date. Whatever that means. I mean, she really didn’t mean anything to me. Dating her just made it easier to get what I wanted. She kind of used me too though. As soon as she found out I was going to therapy. she wanted to use it as a way to get her more drugs.

Honestly, I don’t even really remember why we started dating. I think she just told me one day that we were and I went along with it because it kept me numb for less money. Where had I been getting the money from in the first place? I didn’t have a job. Oh Shit! I can’t believe I must have been stealing from my parents.

Actually, now that I think about it, I don’t really remember ever having to pay for drugs at all. Was Harley trying to date me the whole time? Why would she do that? We’ve known each other since kindergarten. She never showed any interest in me before. I really should talk to her.

[quinnessential]

Saturday, March 11, 2017; 9:30 pm

Nights are the hardest. I still wait for his goodnight text even though I don’t even have my phone in here. It doesn’t feel right. Like he should still be here. Why did he have to do this to me? Why do I feel so personally attacked by it?

Because he should have thought of me! I was his boyfriend! I was constantly thinking about him. I even went to the school counselor to get him help! Not that it did him any good. But I tried. He didn’t even try. All he had to do was reach out and I would have been there! I wanted to be there for him so bad. Why wouldn’t he let me be there for him? 

I loved him.

I love him.

[quinnessential]

Saturday, March 11, 2017; 1pm

Rain told me she was proud of me for opening up in group while we were in her studio. She said it isn’t easy to do. She thinks we might both get out of here soon. I don’t know about that. I haven’t even been here a month. My therapist said I would probably be in here for at least three. Do they let you out early if you're progressing fast?

[quinnessential]

Saturday, March 11, 2017; 10 am

I talked about Phil and Harley in group today. I wasn’t expecting to cry so much.

[quinnessential]

Friday, March 10, 2017; 9:30 pm

I took my journal to individual today. He said he wanted to read what I’ve been writing this week. He said I only had to show him what I was willing to share when I hesitated. I showed him today and yesterday. I didn’t think he needed to see my story and poem. He’s proud of me. That I’m letting myself feel again. Glad that I’m getting it out. Even if it's not with him. He says its good to vent, even if it's just to a piece of paper or a canvas.

[quinnessential]

Friday March 10, 2017; 1 pm

Rain let me spend the morning in her studio with her again. This time, she let me paint. I painted Phil. Not how he looked. How he felt. It was harder than I thought. He’s been dead for like five months and I guess I still haven’t really grieved him. I cried all over that canvas. Both paint and tears. I didn’t realize how much I missed him. I needed him more than I could have known at The End of Summer Bash when I had drunkenly gotten our braces stuck together.

They say you never forget your first and there is no way I could ever forget Phil. He was my first boyfriend, my first relationship. He taught me so much. About myself, about the world, about how to deal. I loved him. I still do. Just because someone dies doesn’t mean everyone just stops feeling. Why does everyone act like you get about a month to grieve and then everything should be normal again? Nothing is ever going to be “normal” again. My “normal” is never going to be the same. Being with Phil was my normal. Now he’s gone. All of it’s gone.

[quinnessential]

Thursday, March 9, 2017; 9:30 pm

I finally opened up in my individual therapy. I guess Rain showing me all of those paintings really got to me. She would probably be proud of me or whatever. I just kind of want to get out of here. I can’t hold onto Phil forever. He’s dead and I need to truly move on. Apparently, that’s healthy thinking. They’re proud of the progress I’ve made or whatever.

[quinnessential]

Thursday, March 9, 2017; 1 pm

Rain showed me where she goes and I was not disappointed. After group, she grabbed me by the hand and pulled me down the girl’s dormitory hallway. I told her I wasn’t allowed back there but she just laughed and said it would be okay. We went down all the way to the end of the hall and, when we got to the last door, Rain stopped and told me to close my eyes. She wouldn’t budge until I did. I obliged and she pulled me into the room. After the door closed, she told me that I could open my eyes.

The whole room was covered from floor to ceiling in fantastical paintings. I was shook. I asked if she had painted them all herself and she told me she had. That every painting was a feeling she had had while being here. She pointed to a giant, red and orange bird and said that was the anger she felt at her ex for manipulating her. She pointed to one that looked like a chaotic ocean storm saying that was her feeling of addiction. She named them all and the feelings they represented. She was so excited to show them to me and I can understand why. They were amazing.

[quinnessential]

Wednesday, March 8, 2017; 9:30 pm

I showed Rain my story. She laughed and called it creative. She promised to show me what she really does every morning after group tomorrow. I can’t wait. I bet its something really cool.

[quinnessential]

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

Rain disappeared after group again today. It’s become kind of expected now. I’m still curious about where she goes but I’ve stopped asking. No one else knows or cares and I figure she’ll tell me if and when she wants me to know. Maybe she just goes back to her room. I can understand that. After group, I really don’t feel like being around people anymore either. Or, maybe she is secretly digging a tunnel out of this place. Or, maybe she is sneaking out in order to rob banks. Or she’s doing one of the guards or orderlies to get the good drugs. Oh! I could make a really good story out of this! I think that’s what I’ll do today.

As soon as group therapy was over, Rain disappeared. She clung to the shadows and avoided every security cameras. Se knew the layout so well that she could have done it in her sleep. In fact, she had, many times. This time, she was awake and she knew what she had to do.

This was it. The very last time she would have to do this. This would set her up for life. All she had to do was get out of the facility, get into the bank unseen, grab as much cash as she could, get out of the bank without setting off any alarms, stash the cash, and get back into the facility before anyone noticed she was gone. Piece of cake.

She snuck past the sleeping guard with ease and found the car her partner had left for her. The first leg went off without a hitch. She drove about two blocks away from the facility and changed from the blue scrubs they made her wear into a much more comfortable black catsuit. She took her time making sure that there wasn’t a single hair coming out from the bald cap she put on and the pulled on a pair of leather gloves over a latex pair. Then she pulled down a ski mask over the nylon over her bald cap.

Rain silently slipped from roof to roof until she was poised over the airconditioning vent that would lead her to the prize. She shimmied her way above the vault and meticulously carved a square out of the vent with a blow torch. Hoping that her hacker contact had done their job, Rain lowered a rope into the vault. Soon after, a suitcase hit the floor and then she touched down.

The security cameras were dead so Rain quickly got to work. She unladed bags from the suitcase and began filling them. When all of her bags and even the suitcase were filled, she tied them to the rope before climbing up it. She quickly lifted the money into the ceiling before replacing the metal square and tacking it down.

Back on the roof, Rain heard the familiar whir of a chopper. She hurried to the designated pick up spot and waited. When the bird was directly above her, Rain tied the bags to the ladder that was dropped.

As the helicopter disappeared into the distance, Rain remover her gloves, ski mask, nylon, bald cap, and shoes. She fished a pair of heels from the stairwell as she descended. She stepped out onto the street and looked up. She marked that there was no way to see her garbage can fire from down here.

She walked cooly to her getaway car and drove back to the facility. She changed back into her scrubs before sneaking back into the facility.

The guard was awake this time but she had planned for this. Rain slipped the crisp hundred dollar bill from her bra and handed it to him as she passed. She quietly slipped into her bed and slept easy knowing she would never have to worry about anything ever again. Rain knew she would never get caught. Any evidence against her had been burned. Plus, she had the perfect alibi. No one could get out of this facility. Well, no one but Rain.

[quinnessential]

Tuesday, March 7; 9:30 pm

I talked to Rain. She insisted that I only show her if it was really what I wanted. I honestly did want her to read it. It took some convincing but I finally got her to read it. She liked it. She agreed about the order being better.

Everything was fine until she asked who it was about. I tried to tell her that I really hadn’t written it about anyone. She refused to believe that.When I told her that it was about her, she laughed. I asked her what was funny and she said that it was funny to see what other people think of her. That no one has ever done anything like that for her. That she was sure that no one had ever felt like that about her before. She also told me that she was a lesbian. I didn’t really understand why she told me that. It didn’t really have anything to do with the poem. Apparently, she thought I had a crush on her and that I was idolizing her. I just thought she was really cool and strong. I’m still not really over him.

[quinnessential]

Tuesday, March 7; 1 pm

Her name was like water to his soul.

Just the sound of it kept him from wilting away.

Her voice tended the garden of his heart.

Her smile was the light that guided him home.

She was the moon in the black might that was his life.

Her name

was like water 

to his soul

Her smile 

was the light

guiding him home

Her voice

tended the garden

of his heart.

Just the sound 

of it kept him 

from wilting away.

She was

the moon 

in the black 

night that was 

his life.

I like it better this way. I think it flows better. Maybe I should let Rain read it. She could have some pointers.

[quinnessential]

Tuesday, March 7; 10 am

Group this morning was awkward. They asked me to talk about why I was here. I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it with everyone there. They keep telling me I’m not going to be allowed to leave without talking in group. That’s not fair. How can they tell me that I have to talk about something that I’m not ready to talk about? It’s not like I don’t talk at all. I just don’t talk about him. Plus, I’ve only been here for nine days. It’s not like I’m not going to be able to leave anytime soon, anyway. I’m going to be here for another two and a half months at the very least. 

[quinnessential]

Monday, March 6; 9:30 pm

I asked Rain about poetry. I asked her if I should show her the stuff I wanted to make into a poem. She told me that I only had to show her if I wanted to. I didn’t show her. I didn’t want to. I didn’t think it was right. I’m afraid she wouldn’t understand. It's not like I’m in love with her or anything. I’m just like in awe of her. She’s so strong. How could someone not want to be around her all the time? She’s my inspiration.

Anyway, she said that poetry really didn’t have any rules I had to explicitly follow. Writing is an art. So, I can just break it up however I want. Whatever feels right. I guess I’m going to try it tomorrow.

[quinnessential]

Monday, March 6; 1 pm

I talked to Cameron but she doesn’t really know much about poetry. She said that she thinks I can just break it up however I want but now I have to talk to Rain.