Found this sad piece of my writing from the NY days...

My my, it has been a while. For reasons unknown I shall be writing this particular entry in the third person... so let's see what SGO has been up to for the last month, shall we? She was very very depressed for a while, June was a month of pain. How can she fight the battle when the enemy is unknown? She took a drive to the beach one day and in a moment of desperation, of feeling so completely and utterly alone, that not a soul understands her, she asked a wandering man if he needed a ride. Of course, this was way out of the ordinary for SGO, but like I said, it was only that moment. He said no. She continued to drive until she parked her car, read "The Secret Lives of Bees" and smoked away. She watched as the same wanderer walked past her car, wondering what his story was, if he was loved. She drove home.

The days passed, each becoming more unbearable. One day she had to go to the hospital to get her medicine, she asked her brother to go and he told her he was busy. They had a big fight. She finally said all that had been unspoken, all that he had done to hurt her. She was cursing, she was crying. Her mom asked if she wanted her to go to the hospital with her, she yelled at her mom which of course made her feel terrible. She left the house and drove. She considered ending it, her friends hadn't proven themselves and now neither had her family. She went to the hospital instead... spending four hours of her life there resulting in some of the best news she had heard in a long time. Her friend David texted her in such a way that he could never fully know what it meant to her. She knew then that he would always be there for her as he had throughout their friendship. She met David and Jaena for an evening of fabulous food and even better conversation. These were her people.

The following day she felt invigorated, alive. She held the master plan. She paved the roads for her own future.

Then you should know that the only thing that stops me from ending all of this is fear of eternal damnation. Not sure if that proves to be a good or bad thing.

myself slipping deeper.

I feel completely and utterly stuck. It’s been six months and I’m not over him… as much as I’d like to think I am. He’s left me a brokenhearted mess. I read a letter he wrote to me, saying that he’d be in my life for as long as I would have him. Well I didn’t ask him to go did I? Who’s going to clean up this mess of me you’ve made? I sat through Shawshank Redemption with the family, a waste of a fucking classic movie only because the first time I saw it was with him. It’s funny how my brain forgets all of the things I want to remember and retains all of the things I want to forget. I still remember that night perfectly. We were huddled up on the couch in the living room, I was lying in his arms while he played with my hair. It was the most content I’ve ever felt in my adult life. And now what? Six months later I’m still sitting on a couch only it’s in my parent’s living room and I’m crying to my laptop at 1:55 am. Fuck being emo.

Oh Ahmed. So we’ve been talking a lot as of late and with each conversation he makes his interest in me more and more obvious. I don’t like games so I finally decided to ask him straight up what his intentions are- is he just flirting or does he see a genuine potential for something more? He then told me that he was testing the waters to see if I was in a relationship, etc. And that he wanted to know how I felt about him, if I still felt the same. “I’ll call you tonight so we can talk about it,” he said. Well he never called. It’s been over one week, nothing. I tried to make excuses for him, there was just a big earthquake in Algeria where he is stationed, but it was further north of where he is. I wanted to make excuses for him, but I’ve come to the conclusion that he’s just an idiot like the rest of them, especially because my brother in law would kick his ass if he knew that Ahmed was trying to play me. I made the mistake of thinking perhaps this time it could be different but alas, no. Another day another drama. *Sigh*

I knew that moving back would not be easy. I’ve been suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for the last few months and the entire time I was in my apartment in Orange County I was in a constant state of uneasiness. I told myself before moving back to be prepared for some sort of breakdown and that is exactly what I am faced with at this time. It’s been several weeks since I moved back and I still have not completely unpacked. I’ve spent entire days in bed. All of my old friends up here have been asking me to see them but I’ve been avoiding it and if I do see them, I do it begrudgingly. I spent a day contemplating the different ways I could kill myself. I tried to imagine what my Mom’s reaction would be if she came home from running errands and saw my slit wrists, or how long it would take for my parents to check on me in my room only to find that I’d overdosed. My happiness is fleeting but my pain remains constant.

I packed up all of my shit today and was on my way :) My parents told me I should leave tomorrow but I was anxious for a fresh start.

It was 7:30 p.m. by the time I left, which put me at Grapevine well past sunset. I already am a squeamish about driving through the mountains, but driving through them at night is a panic attack waiting to happen. As I was going through the mountains in my u-haul truck towing my car behind me, it started to rain. I literally could not see more than 30 feet in front of me. On top of that, the truck felt like it had no grip so I was swerving in and out of the other lanes. I had a panic attack right then and there. I started hyperventilating and crying. I then stopped, reminded myself to breathe and started reciting dhikr. I drove 30 miles through the Grapevine reciting dhikr at the top of my lungs until I reached the bottom.

Once I was safely through I decided to get gas. I failed miserably at making the turn toward the pump and luckily some nice Asian guys decided to help my sorry ass :D

What else? My mom finally convinced me to stop at a hotel- choice digs of the night? You guessed it, Motel 6! Once inside the "lobby" I was greeted by the hardened stares of what I assumed to be Russian mafioso, because honestly, what other kind of Russian is there?

I Love Motel 6!!

While I'm not sorry to say goodbye to an apartment that I did not feel safe in, days filled with emptiness and nights filled with despair- I am sorry to [for the time being] say goodbye to an amazing city and an incredible group of friends.

Had my going away party tonight and it was truly a memorable night. Adrian was drunk out of his mind, chasing Cleo around the party talking in his "British" accent. Liuzzi was being a perv as always, telling me he knows that he creeps me out. Ugh haha! Aaron appointed himself bartender and made a blockade around the kitchen... I saw his asscrack tonight when he was bent on the floor cleaning spilled cake :(

I had my palm read tonight... totally haramadan I know! Apparently, I have a lot of secret admirers who will never get the guts to tell me how they feel because I intimidate them :P I've also had my heart broken (well,duh!) Hmmm what else. I'll be successful, I'm driven school/career-wise. I'll have two kids, oh and marriage is DEFINITELY in the cards. Haha you crazy ass palm reader!

Oh, I was also followed around the party by a guy who kept telling me how attractive I am in my hijab haha He was going up to his friends saying, "Hey man, isn't this girl beautiful?" I was like ummm, awkward? One thing about our conversation struck me though. We got on the subject of women. Women are always the first to suffer, in wars and in life. Men use women as tools to defeat other men. When women are broken, society is broken. We are the glue that holds society together. We give life. We give life and men take it. They know that we are strong, stronger in many ways than they will ever be so they break us. They don't want us to know the power we have, how strong we really are. And some of us don't know, but most of us do.

And I'm filled with a sense of sadness/hopefulness. Buh. LA/OC has been my home for the last four years. I've made so many wonderful friends here and it sucks that I have to say goodbye... again.

I'm supposed to leave in 3 days and so far I've only got the living room packed up. My apartment is filthy and when I say filthy, I do mean FILTHY. I know that I should be getting more done but when I start organizing I come upon bits of my past and it debilitates me.

God my blog is depressing haha

I went to the police station to pick up a copy of my police report today. I've come to the conclusion that I do not like being identified as "Victim #1" and "Jane Doe." After virtually no assistance from the police on my case and the officer who was assigned to it telling me I had no chance in court as it was my word against my rapist's, I decided to close my case. And today it ends.

I looked at the cadet incredulously when I was told that I would need to pay $2.50 and scoffed in disgust that a victim of crime should have to pay to receive a copy of her police report. After tossing my money on the counter, I held the report in my hands.

I made the mistake of reading it, I don't know why I did. As I sat in my car outside of the police station smoking cigarette after cigarette, I searched for answers throughout it's 11 pages. I found none. Only:

"She walked back into her bedroom. She was standing next to the bed when he entered the room and grabbed her from behind. He pushed her onto the bed face down. He then rolled her over and choked her with both hands. She tried to push him away from her but he was too strong. She is unsure of how long he choked her but she felt very dizzy and almost passed out."

"During the interview she did not have any emotion. She explained the events without crying or getting excited. I tested her validity by exaggerating some of the details that she told me. Each time she would correct me and tell me exactly what she told me the first time. I noticed that she had an approximately 3 centimeter scratch on her right wrist."

"Azzam told her to report the incident but Doe refused. After work on 2-5-08, Azzam finally convinced Doe to report the incident."

Friday night after class I was standing around with my brother and our friends Thien (gay) and Molly (lesbian) when we got on the subject of fag hags aka fruit flies. Ben had never heard the term so I explained to him that they are [desperate] women who latch onto gay guys. Molly then said how she hates when she sees how straight women act differently when they're around gay guys, they start talking like them and act in a way they never would around straight men, or even in many cases their female friends. I knew what she was talking about because it's a peeve of mine as well, but then I came to a realization. Often straight women can be who they want to around gay men without fear of judgment. Society decides the difference between a lady and a slut. I myself have faced judgment from female friends when I talk to them about relationships, sex, etc. Most openly gay men have already shed their fear of sexual societal stigmas and because of this, they can be less quick to judge should the topic of sex arise. For example, if I was to tell a female friend a kinky fantasy of mine it would probably be met with "ewwww" or "TMI!!" whereas if I was to tell Thien or one of my other gay friends it would probably be met with "You dirty little slut I love it!!" The topic of sex with many gays is, in my experience, met with a lightheartedness, whereas with many straight people it's all about norms and taboos. I don't really know where I'm going with this but I just thought it was interesting I suppose...

The best part of waking up is dumb fucks in your cup.

Lady at work: So are you Muslim or what.
Me: Yes.
Lady: Yeah I figured because I always see you wear that turban on your head.
Me: Actually it's called a scarf.
Lady: Oh. So you must be voting for Obama then right?

Are you serious?

Later that evening after class got out I'm standing by my car with Ben (my brother), Thien and Molly and we're talking about this and that... Hmm come to think about it my next blog will be about that. This crazy guy who stalks our professor comes up to us and starts jabbering on. Of course me, ever so the polite one, nods and smiles through it all.
Crazy Guy: So are you Arab or Bosnian or Indian or what?
Me: Actually I'm Irish.
Crazy Guy: HAHAHA yeaaaah right!! That's a good one!
Me: I'm serious, I really am Irish
Crazy Guy: Oooookkkk. So do you like, hate Jews and want them all to die?
Me: Umm, no?

Somebody forgot to tell me it's hate on Muzzie week. Sad!! Let me just start by saying that I FUCKING HATE IGNORANT PEOPLE!!!

Ahhh, that's better.

Let's start with yesterday, shall we? I'm at work (Laura Mercier cosmetic counter at Macy's). Customer that I worked with last week comes in and I'm helping her yadda yadda. Now just to clarify when she had come previously I was wearing my scarf in what would be perceived as a more "traditional" Muslim way of doing it, yesterday I had it in the back in a wrap. So this heifer is making a motion as if covering the bottom half of her face and is like "Where's that girl who wears that thing?" And I'm like "There is no girl working here who covers her face." "No but, you know what I mean," Says Heifer Lady. "She kinda looked like you, wait are you Sara? That was you last week right? But today you look so, DIFFERENT. You're not dressed very Muslim today." To which I reply, "How exactly is it, you think a Muslim looks?" Met with stammers and ummmm well you knows. Ugh. Wow. Stupidity at it's finest ladies and gents. I don't look very Muslim. Well thanks for letting me know, I'll be sure to dust off my certified Muslim badge, wouldn't want to confuse people, or make them feel uncomfortable. Oops, too late :)

Fuck Al Qaeda. Fuck Al Qaeda, George, Dick, Fox News and all those other terrorist motherfuckers who have done this. I refuse to apologize for my faith. I refuse to hide. I refuse to back down. No. I'm tired of this pseudo police state nonsense and unlike the other Muslim Uncle Tom's, I am not afraid. You want to protect the American people then do it, but do it right.

Walking through security today on my way to Houston. "Ma'am you've been randomly selected for a security screening." "Of course I have, that's just the way it always goes doesn't it?" I'm ushered into the center divider surrounded by glass and a rope. Glass ceilings for Blacks, glass walls for Muslims. Do you, the American people, feel safe now? Feel more protected to see me behind it? I'm taken to the side and the SS, oops I mean TSA agent pulls everything out of my bags, she swabs my shoes, clothes, laptop and the inside of my bags then runs it through the machine. No TNT here, no sirree bob. "Spread your legs, arms out palms up," she says. I comply. God bless America. I'm looking at the shadow the Los Angeles sun is casting on the wall in front of me, my silhouette. My face burns with humiliation and rage. Her wand starts beeping when it gets to my chest and back, you would think that they would keep in mind that most women wear bras, and most of those women have metal underwire in those bras. "Ma'am I'm gonna have to pat you down in some highly sensitive areas." Let the gropefest begin. In full view of everyone who was witness she felt my breasts through my shirt, my back, between my thighs. How's that for some girl on girl action? I'm told that I'm clear, I am not a threat to other passengers. I put my shoes on, stuff everything back in my bags and continue onto my gate, only to be told that I am 5 minutes late and the plane has left.

I wait around, eat some Cinnabon and finally board the 8 a.m. to Houston. Too bad for all you suckers who were secretly hoping I wouldn't end up on your flight. I'm met with the usual sideways glances, staring and glaring that welcome me when I board planes. I return the favor, lovely to see you all as well. Sleeeeeeepp.

Houston is lame, Houstonians even lamer. I'm there for some testing for my new job with Continental Airlines, now if that isn't ironic I don't know what is. I get fingerprinted and am on my way to the clinic to perform an array of tests. Once inside the clinic, which is only for employees, all eyes are on me. When I say that I am not exaggerating, as I walked through the back of the clinic to start testing, the room fell silent and two sets of eyes were burning through me from all angles. I start with the vision test, all good. We get to the hearing test and the girl asks me to sit in this little box about four feet high and wide. Only one problem, I'm claustrophobic as a motha. I'm told there's no two ways about it. I muster up my courage and with tears in my eyes tell them to go ahead and shut the door I'm ready to begin testing. Lame, I know. Now, onto the piss test. One of the other clinicians tells the girl who is working with me that I have to take off my scarf to make sure I'm not hiding any pee under it. What. The. Fuck. Seriously. The girl who was working with me, Jen, will forever have a place in my heart after what happened next. Jen: "Excuuuuuuse me? She doesn't have to take anything off. What the hell you seriously think she's hiding urine under her headdress? I asked her if she has anything under it, she said no, I trust what she's saying if you don't like it go ahead and report me and I'll take the flack." <3<3<3 When we move onto the weight training room it went something like this- "Can you believe that shit? People are so ignorant. So what's the deal, is that for religious purposes? You don't have to answer if you don't want to." Me: "Yes, I'm Muslim." Her: "Now is that because you married a Muslim guy?" Me: "No, I was born Muslim my parents converted." Her: "Well that's fantastic, I think that's just great." We get into a long discussion between sets about religion, race and just about everything else. She leaves the room. When she comes back she says, "You know, they're all talking about you out there. They were trying to figure you out and they asked me what the deal was. I told them I asked you and you're Muslim. I hope you don't mind me asking you all of these questions." Me: No worries, I'd rather an honest question than an ignorant assumption." We're joined by her supervisor. Supervisor: "So what's the headcovering about?" Jen: "She's Muslim. We're having a great little chat about it." Supervisor: "So I can't see your hair, not ever?" Me: "No." Supervisor: "Do you ever wear see through scarves?" Me: "That would kinda defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?" Supervisor: "Haha, yeah" We talked about a lot of other shit, most of which I don't remember. Moral of the story: There are a lot of really, really, really shitty people out there. But, there are also good people, truly good people, though they are few and far between. When I meet people like I met today, I stop becoming a robot, my defenses are let down and I become human again.

1. Vertically challenged

2. Controlling

3. Abusive

4. Ignorant

5. Religious only when it is to their advantage

6. They think having a degree makes them intelligent

7. They think they are god's gift to women

8. You will never be as good as their mom

9. They want to mold you to be one of their women

10. Hair everywhere except their heads

11. Misogynists

12. They say they're half-Italian, Cuban, Greek etc. LAME!!

13. They have a ridiculous obsession with the mob- Sopranos, Godfather, Scarface, etc.

14. They are threatened by strong, independent women

15. They always have to be right

16. They can't make decisions for themselves

17. Every girl who is not their mom or sister is a whore

More to come...


*Results may vary, based on a case to case study

So let's rewind back in my life to about 14 years old, maybe 15. I was madly in love with my brother-in-law's close friend. And I do mean MADLY. I was in love with him for about 4 years. I remember the first night I met him, I spoke with my sister before going to her house and she said there's someone here I think you will like. I walked in and my stomach dropped when I saw him- or something to that effect... From then on it was love baby. I anxiously awaited weekends spent at my sister's apartment in hopes that he would also be there, bonus if he spent the night ;) Just knowing he was sleeping in the other room made me giddy, if I got the balls to do it I would go into the kitchen after everyone was asleep "because I was thirsty" and just watch him sleep. We used to debate about politics and while I acted like I couldn't stand him, I loved that he was one of the few people who could take on my dominant personality. The miscellaneous slew of men in my life were always compared to him and they almost always came short. He had no idea. Until..... I wrote him a love letter. Yes, people still do that, shocking I know. One night when I was feeling particularly brave I confessed the way I felt and dare I say it, bared my soul on that piece of notebook paper. He was spending the night as he often did and I walked into the living room where he was laying down on the couch, gave him the note and ran back to the guest room to seek refuge. Fast forward eight years, countless boyfriends and two divorces later. He wants me? I'm over it.

:D:D:D says: (1:20:52 PM)just got back from santa barbara:
ahmed says: (1:21:56 PM)maybe you should have invited me ;)
D:D:D says: (1:23:04 PM)hahahaha
D:D:D says: (1:23:17 PM)that would have been anything but romantic
ahmed says: (1:23:18 PM)or you don't think i'm the right person
D:D:D says: (1:23:28 PM)did you forget i'm not your type?
ahmed says: (1:23:39 PM)who said that
ahmed says: (1:23:45 PM)i never said anything like that
D:D:D says: (1:23:56 PM)no but you showed it
ahmed says: (1:24:17 PM)that's because you were too young...i didn't want to go to jail :)
ahmed says: (1:25:14 PM)can you imaine going out with a 14 yr old !
ahmed says: (1:25:27 PM)if i had done it, you would have hated me now :)
ahmed says: (1:26:14 PM)you will always say...i was used when i was a minor...you may even go to jerry springer or oprah to tell your story :):D:D:D says: (1:26:25 PM)
ahmed says: (1:26:55 PM)and then they will say mauritania ? where the hell is that...how did you even meet this guy!
:D:D:D says: (1:29:13 PM)you have to send me a copy of that letter one day if you still have it
ahmed says: (1:29:25 PM)i still have it...
ahmed says: (1:29:29 PM)i'm serious i liked that letter
ahmed says: (1:35:26 PM)but honestly i used to love your family!
ahmed says: (1:35:34 PM)they were so nice to me when i visited
ahmed says: (1:36:01 PM)i feel bad that i never called them to say hi...
ahmed says: (3:09:04 AM)what's new with you?
D:D:D says: (3:10:12 AM)just went out w/ some friends tonight
ahmed says: (3:10:49 AM)which friends....;)
D:D:D says: (3:11:11 AM)its a married couple
ahmed says: (3:11:32 AM)how boring. you are young and beautiful....you should not hang out with married couples
D:D:D says: (3:12:28 AM)lol who should i hang out with then?
ahmed says: (3:12:54 AM)i don't know...with beautiful girls like you
ahmed says: (3:14:47 AM)so, when are you going to invite me over?
ahmed says: (3:15:12 AM)or you are not in love with me anymore ;)....you grew up
:D:D:D says: (3:15:49 AM)i've been married twice already obviously i had to get over it
ahmed says: (3:17:12 AM)come on sara...you were only 15
ahmed says: (3:17:28 AM)i could not talk to you at that age...
ahmed says: (3:17:42 AM)i was young too, but i will have been taken to jail...
ahmed says: (3:18:54 AM)so when are you inviting me over...or is there no chance
:D:D:D says: (3:19:24 AM)what exactly am i inviting you for?
ahmed says: (3:19:46 AM)to visit california..it is your place right
ahmed says: (3:30:44 AM)but i need to settle down....it is so difficult to find someone you want to spend the rest of your life with
ahmed says: (3:33:06 AM)and honestly, i don't want to marry someone from mauritania.....
ahmed says: (3:33:24 AM)i don't like the mentality there....
ahmed says: (3:35:43 AM)maybe because i spent a considerable part of my life abroad

Wow, just wow. Sucka.

I see my value only in the way I look. I am beautiful but only when people tell me am. Beautiful not because I believe it but only because I am told it. Beauty rather than intelligence and humor is what I desperately grasp onto. Yes, I may be curvier than other girls but what does that matter when I have a pretty face?

Makeup is my shield, my defense mechanism. It is the mask I don to cover the pain of a childhood marked with being called fat and wondering why the same people who always told my sister how pretty she was never told me the same. Time has shaped us and I came out on top (or so I am told) and secretly, I feel victorious. Awful, I know. Until the age of 15, aside from my mom, nobody ever told me I was cute or pretty or beautiful. The first one who did ended up raping me. Take a few minutes to figure that one out. Makeup hides the insecurities that I hold. Ebony eyeliner, red lips and four inch heels give the illusion that I have enough self- confidence to make Tony Robbins' head spin.

The thought of aging makes me stomach churn... Knowing that I only have about 10 years of shelf life before men start looking for younger and fresher meat. How disgusting is that? I realize how shallow I sound and honestly it sickens me. But for all my talk, I'm scared. I'm scared of spending my life alone. Of not meeting my Cary Grant before my expiration date. I'm scared of becoming one of the women who come into my work and while doing their makeup, I tell them how fabulous they look after they've had Restylane and all sorts of other shit shot up into their face in their desperate attempts to find a man well into their 40's and 50's. Please God, don't let me end up like that. Let me be content with the way I am now and the way I will be in 15 years, 25 years and beyond.

I left the one who made me laugh for the one who made me cry. I suppose it's silly to look back with regret and fill my head with what if's, but I can't help but wonder- what if? What if I hadn't fallen for his empty words and what are now broken promises. What if I hadn't been in such a rush toward my future rather than enjoy the present. What if I had my shit together and as Muhammad says, wasn't looking for my second half before finding my first.

Back to the one who was left behind. We've been talking more as of late. It's not going toward marriage or anything serious like that. I've learned my lesson believe you me. But he makes me feel beautiful. Like I'm the most beautiful woman in the world, inside and out. He tells me things no man has ever told me. He loves me unconditionally, one of a handful of people I can say who do. I broke his heart and left him for what turned out to be a deceitful sexaholic and throughout it all he's still loved me and most importantly still been my friend. It was and is gut-wrenching to hurt him in the way I did and each time we talk I'm filled with regret that I did not hold on tighter. I envy the woman who he ends up giving himself to.

To Ali: A far better man than those of my past and a friend who I hope to keep in this life and the next.

*NOTE* I finally got around to posting this about a week and a half after the events written about took place.

I am now on my umpteenth attempt at blogging, hopefully this time I will succeed. Yesterday I was released from the hospital after a brief stint that I was forced to undergo for a psychological evaluation.

It all started on Monday evening.... This guy I know came over to my apartment. To make a long story short- he choked me and raped me. I thought I was going to die. And of course, wonderful as my life is, this was not the first time I have been raped. The first time was when I was 15, he was my first boyfriend and I was a virgin. But that's another story.

After it happened I texted my best friend and asked her if I could stay the night. I told her I wanted to kill myself, not sure if I really meant it but I was just trying to take the events of the evening in. When I got to her house she asked if I wanted to go to the police but I just couldn't. The next day I decided to go to the police and file a report against him.

Officer after officer questioned me about what had happened. Then firemen came to do a basic checkup of me to make sure everything was in working order. I had to repeat what had happened to about five of them. Even though I know that they were concerned about my well-being, I can honestly say that it was one of the most humiliating things ever to have to explain the nature of the unnatural rape that had happened to me. They told me I had to go to the hospital to undergo a rape exam and also to file a police report. My best friend was with me throughout it all and honestly I don't know what I would do without her.

Bless the officer assigned to my case. He was extremely sensitive and even had me laughing while we were doing the report. He later told me that the time he spent with me was the longest he'd spent on any case and he stayed even beyond his shift so I wouldn't have to deal with another officer. Because I had mentioned that I wanted to kill myself the night it happened, he told me he had to take me to the hospital for a psychological evaluation. I freaked out. I cried, I cussed, I yelled saying it wouldn't do me any good because it hadn't last time, but he had to take me in. He kept apologizing and telling me he didn't want to upset me but he was worried about me. He said he could tell I wasn't happy with myself but that I had no reason to be. The officer told me how lucky I am to have a friend like my best friend and if nothing else, to be thankful that I have a friend like her because so many people he works with don't have anybody. I have always been fairly distrustful of the police, but after dealing with this officer it just amazed me how selfless he is, and how many sacrifices he and his family make in order to help others.

I hardly slept all night, waking up every two hours partly because they kept checking my blood pressure and partly because my brain would not shut off. The next morning the evaluator came. She was a pretty middle-aged blonde woman whose name I forgot. She was asking why I was there, etc. Then she proceeded to ask if I was going to kill myself or hurt others, I told her the only thing that stops me from doing anything to myself is my religion, and that I would never hurt someone else. She asked to see the scars on my arms from when I used to cut myself. I also showed her the cigarette burns on my breasts. My beautiful milky white breasts forever marked by my pain. She then asked if I hear voices. I told her "Look, I'm not crazy. I'm depressed. I have a lot of pain in my life and I just need some help to get better." 15 minutes later I was released, even though technically I should have stayed for another 36 hours. Freedom has never tasted so sweet.