Psychiatrists and social workers had already decided before I was born that I was going to be a mental patient. Continue reading “The Other Half”
In 2017, while I was incarcerated against my will in a psychiatric institution in Buffalo, NY for ten days, I shared a room with a woman I will never forget.
She was Barbara to me at the time, although on one occasion, I asked her for her last name and I wrote it down in my composition notebook. Tonight, I looked through the pages of that notebook for her name. I have not been able to bear to look at what I had written during my time in hell with my friend until now. I found what I could handle reading for tonight. Three words:
Barbara Warren Jones. Continue reading “Justice for Barbara Warren-Jones”
The Comfort Room
I sat in an old, ratty recliner
In The Comfort Room.
With supervision, of course
Someone to judge my every facial expression
A bout of laughter
Or a single tear Continue reading “Melissa S. Bennett”