I'm back, and now I'll be able to explain just a bit more. I was admitted here early Wednesday evening by the social I've been seeing at my school. This happened after I asked a classmate of mine if she could steal some prescription medication from her mother. I put her in a very difficult spot, and she reported what I said to my former psychology teacher, who immediately dropped her sarcastic facade and was completely beside herself from what I've heard. She reported this to the social worker immediately, and I was promptly escorted to this psychiatric ward via police paddy wagon after school. A lot of people saw me with those officers on either side of me, and I felt nothing but the most horrific of shame.

I wanted my life to end, that's why I'm here now sneaking some words past midnight, afraid that a warden will find me and request that I be detained longer after seeing that I'm breaking the "no writing" rule. I'm not allowed to have a pencil, but I snuck one into my room anyway. I can't have paper, so I'm writing between the lines of a novel. I know that the rules being imposed on me are for my benefit, but there's one thing that I don't want to give up.

And that's my right to write freely."

At the time I wrote the above entry, I was able to use the light of the lamp post on the street outside my window.

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