The Nuthouse

...accident on the boulevard, and I do not want to repeat it if I leave this rehabilitation center so soon. Looking back, luckily, the truck’s driver didn’t leap to the wet pavement screaming, “My back! My neck! I can’t walk! to attempt juicing an insurance company. Yeah right, the one I can’t afford. Truly, I’m feeling trapped in a mental dilemma and more so with most dudes looking for weaknesses in other people and not themselves. I am feeling physically deprived, emotionally suppressed, and mentally confined as we only get five minutes to speak our minds per person per meeting. I’m not finding my way clearly through this inner convulsion I’m experiencing; the resolution going through my mind is not a positive one.

However, it’s just me going through an unfamiliar transformation, perhaps withdrawal symptoms that I’m not allowing myself to let go or stresses not being released. Or maybe it’s only a delusion turning into an illusion for a possible internal solution to bring all of my curses to a conclusion? I don’t know. Wonder of all wonders, is anyone else in here feeling the same way as me and repressing it too? I only need to stay focused, force myself through this lapse, and remain in the present until these unpleasant sentiments vanish.

Karma! As our morning AA meeting got underway and a bunch of strange visitors crowded the dining hall I began feeling more worried, anxious, scared, and insecure. I was feeling belittled yet by no one. I guess the room was getting overcrowded. At the same time, a middle age black lady wearing a presentable pink blouse and purple skirt was randomly switching aisles passing out fresh coffee when an argument abruptly arose with a tall brother sitting at my right.

“Oh, so a brotha ain’t good ’nough for a cup, ma sista?” he asked, kindly giving her a bright smile.

“You could just get up and grab it yourself and I ain’t yo sista,” she replied, somewhat bothered at his insinuation that it was her job to make sure everyone got served.

“Have you ever looked in the mirror and seen you’re blacker than charcoal, sista?” he said calmly and resolutely as he began standing to intimidate her with his size.

“No! You listen to me bastard!” Her ghetto instincts had been triggered and hell broke loose, “I’m not related to you, boy, and I ain’t nobody’s slave to feed every butthead that walks through these goddammed doors, and if you got a problem with it then why don’t you just step outside and we handle it, coward-ass!”

He stood still but on guard and looking down at her as she rolled up her right sleeve, motioning that she was close enough to land a slap on his face.

Then he added, “Well, well, well, looks like somebody didn’t get any action last night.”

“Forget you ugly nigga ef’ you think yo black ass is gonna make me scare of you!” She was screaming through his ears, into my eardrums, and straight to the fellows at the end of the row. I remained seated and asking myself what I have to do with all this madness.