Emo Sipho | Emo Siph… on Emo Sipho Publishing | Emo Sip… on Publishing Chapter 13: Welcome… on Chapter 13: Welcome Home Chapter 12: The Resu… on Chapter 12: The Resurrect… Chapter 5: Monday Bl… on Chapter 5: Monday Blues
It’s finally happening…
Hi guys. Got bad and good news for y’all. Bad news is that you will not get to see the final chapters of my book on this blog. However, the good news is that I have just landed a publishing deal with indie publishers, Grand Royale Brands Publishing. Please keep checking up on the blog to find out when the novel will be available for sale.
Oh my pubes, where do all these guys come from? They can’t all be from the perfectly normal society that the crazy Sipho is from. This place looks like a loony house!
Apparently some of them are here because of weird things like sex addictions, drugs and extremely insane obsessive compulsive disorders. Hope I said that correctly.
The doctor or warder, accompanied by his team of nurses show me into the room that I will be sharing with what looks to be a normal oke just like me. I am lost in a daze as the doc goes over the complex rules, and conduct whatever. Another thing you should know about me; I’m a zoner of note. Try and talk to me about things that do not interest me at all, and I will zone out into space while you figure out a way to bring me back to earth. ‘There will be no smoking, drinking, taking of any illegal substances, stealing, disruptive noises and blah blah blah…….. will not be condoned in this facility. Blah blah blah…… sexual relationships… blah blah frowned upon’, this guy is really getting to my nerves. And what’s worse is that there is this gay-looking nurse from his entourage that likes adding on to whatever is being said by this doctor, as if sucking up to pass an internship exam at the hospital. As if I do any of those things he just mentioned. What a douche balloon! I mean, even if I wanted to, I would never acquire the guts to do it anyways. They eventually leave after the draining prison drill, and I place my bags of clothing next to my headboard.
“Howzit?” I greet my roommate
“Hi” he replies while sitting with crossed arms and legs, looking in the opposite direction.
‘Hi’, what kind of funny guy greets anotherlike that.
“So what you in for partner?” I attempt to ease the tension.
“I’m addicted to cocaine. I, I mean, was addicted to it. It’s my third time in this hell whole. Yes, I’m only 16 and my parents are the richest family in this city. Any other questions?
“Can we get this over and done with already?” my roomy rudely replies
Okay now I am confused. Like what is up with this guy?
“Sorry, get exactly what over and done with?” I ask
“Great, another idiot.” he flicks off the light switch to his bedside lamp
“So are you going to kill the lights or what?” he continues
“Oh yeah.” I quickly change into my pyjamas and turn off the bedroom lights along with my side lamp.
“By the way my name is Tom.” and off to lala land the bastard goes.
As always, I lie on my back staring up at the almost blackened ceiling playing over the events that took place during the course of my day. Embarrassing prayer sermon at my church; a million life lessons lectures from both my parents; rescheduling of damage payment dates with Amanda’s uncles; demon possession accusations by my aunts and the torturous drive to the Bedfordview Private Mental Clinic. Wow, what an awesome day. Well, at least my insanity comes with some benefits though. I mean my brother does not get on my nerves like he always does anymore and I think I just made friends with a drug addicted richy rich. As much of an asshole as he is, I think I like this kid. He is straight forward and brutally honest. Just my type of guy. Maybe he will be in a better mood tomorrow morning.
Six a. m. is the early rise time here at the Bedfordview Private Mental Clinic. So much for escaping the six thirty school time alarm back at home. We all gather inside the kitchen for some breakfast before jumping straight into our daily schedule. If there is one thing I hate with a passion, and that is being told when to eat and when to go and do your own things. I hate it I hate it, I hate it! No, wait. That’s actually two things. But argh man, you know what I am trying to say. Orientation hour commenced after breakfast, and all the new-comers had to introduce themselves and share their reasons for being in the centre.
“It’s for promoting a positive attitude of togetherness as one big happy family.” said the coloured doctor
I think the dude’s been comparing notes with my dad. So one by one, stood up the new Bedfordview nuthouse family recruits. The funny things I heard! Oh my, you would have also been shocked I tell you. One that specifically touched me was of this pretty Indian lady with a coloured accent- from Aldorado Park I guessed- who claimed that she was addicted to sex.I couldn’t help myself. I laughed. I really tried my hardest to keep it in, but I couldn’t. I laughed. That’s when the doc decided to make an embarrassing example of me.
“You find it amusing Sipho?” as he threw a sarcastic one at me.
“No sir… I mean doctor” Sir, really? Come on dude, you are making a fool of yourself.
“Need I remind you that another person’s struggle is nothing to make fun of. If you believe that your condition makes you better than any of us then please do feel free to tell us more about it and yourself. It’s your turn to go. We are all ears.”
Wow, the doc sure knows how to bring someone down a level or two. I stand up, and everyone’s eyes are all on me. I try my best to focus on the doctor’s face and avoid looking at the lady that I must have probably offended, and she stands up and runs out of the room. The doc signals his assistants to run after her to see if she is okay.
“Hi everyone.” I am greeted by silence. And Sipho loses the popularity award yet again.
“My name is Sipho, I’m from Kempton Park and I am depressed.” I look around for any signs of permission to continue or otherwise sit down.
“Care to share with us your experience of ending up in a coma for trying to commit suicide?” the trigger-happy-smart-ass Dr. Phil challenges.
“I tried killing myself with pain killers.” I confess with a look of remorse on my face, secretly wishing that the lady I laughed at was present at the room to witness my public humiliation as a consolation prize for my un-called for behaviour earlier on. I look around for her sad face as I glare into the faces of my public crucifixion mob, but she is not there.
“Thank you for sharing Sipho, you may now sit down.”
We play a tiring number of teambuilding games before going into social time, which I was dreading the whole day.
“Hey man that was pretty messed up what you did to Nasreen earlier dude.” Tom confronted me with a look of disgust.
“You should probably apologise or something.” he suggested.
“Eish man I honestly don’t know what came over me hey. Where is she though?”
As if I was in the mood for doing an apology speech.
“She’s in her room, left door across the hall way.” Tom said.
“Hurry, before she tries to kill herself with some painkillers.” he commanded.
Geez this guy is such a prick though, what a low blow. He did not even pull a comic face when he said that. He said it with this disarming tone with a straight face to top it off. Jerk off of note.
See the thing about being a loser is that you always get better and better at it over time. The losing streaks never stop.
After realising that this whole living thing was not working out for me, I tried my luck at death, and guess what? I still lost, yet again, unlucky Sipho came out tops. Waking up at a hospital is the most unsettling feeling ever, especially when the initial plan did not involve coming back to life.
I was greeted by a proud doctor’s smile; who was probably over the moon for having yet saved another life. She asked how I was doing and if I was feeling any better and I lied and told her yes. I figured explaining my situation to her wouldn’t change or make anything better in any case, so I didn’t. I almost died for real when she told me that my parents, had been worried sick for a week and a few days, and would soon arrive for their daily hospital visits. I wished I could ask her to tell them that I was still in coma or that I was awake but not ready to see anyone- but knew that request would be out of the question. My parents must have probably been beyond troubled about me. Seeing their son awake must have been all that they had been praying for, especially my mother.
“Well then, we’ll leave you adjust by yourself for the time being” she said in a calm voice
“I will see you after your parents have had some time with you when they get here at six”
I tried going back to sleep after that visit from the doc, but it seemed as though my mind and body had already received too much of that for the past couple of days. I thought I would perhaps take a short walk through the hospital’s gardens, but then decided not to. I really wanted to avoid the possibility of that awkward moment of running into my parents on my way back from the walk. I’ll rather have them find me in my bed, looking all sad and vulnerable, just to avoid any possible emotional attacks from my mom. Oh how fast the time flew till 18:00. I could hear my father’s deep voice echoing through the Gradens Private Hospital corridors. My stomach started rumbling uncontrollably, and my arm pits sweat to a puddle. I could make out the steadfast heels of my mother’s shoes nearing my ward, and felt my heart sinking inward deep into my chest. I thought I would close my eyes, when they walked in, to seem as though I had been sleeping.
“Sipho my child” was the sound of my mother’s low and worried voice.
I slowly opened my eyes to see both my parents and brother standing right beside my hospital bed, in an almost rehearsed position. Happy by my feet, my mother on the left, and dad on the right hand side of the bed.
“How are you feeling my boy” asked my dad
The question sounded like a rhetorical one, yet it still made me feel like it needed an answer- and a very good one at that.
“I’m alright dad” that’s the best Sipho can do. All the time. Nothing more, nothing less.
A ‘howzit’ from my brother was greeted by a nod from me, and a long horrid moment of silence followed. I seriously wanted to laugh. It almost felt like the funeral procession that I was supposed to have had. The confused looks on all their faces made me want to say something, so I did.
“I’m depressed, mom and dad”
At about five minutes to 19:00, the doctor came back into my ward to brief my parents on my health progress and also offer them the option of sending me to a psychiatric centre or whatever she called that place. As my parents started to enquire about the centre I was to be sent to, the doc asked them if it was alright for the three of them to discuss the matter in full from outside of my ward. She probably thought me hearing them talk about my condition would hurt my feelings or something. Ah, whatever. I hurt my own feelings by failing to commit my own suicide. How more depressed could a guy get?
The following day, my parents came to fetch me from the hospital, to take me to what would now be my new home. Well at least for the time being, until I regained my old self again; whoever that guy is. To be honest with you, I feel perfectly sane and healthy. I just figured hey, if a guy can miss more days at school and get away from his miserable life, why not. And boy am I going to ride this wave buddy. They all help me pack up my things from the hospital, as we get into the car for a drive to the Bedfordview Private Mental Clinic. Silence, again, but knowing my mother- it will soon be over. “So how have you bee…?”
“My son, you know that we love you right?” she interrupts me
“and if there is anything you need from us, or anything you want to tell us, just know that we are always here for you…”
I almost puke. Classic scene from a melodrama film by Tyler Perry.
“The Lord is also always there for us to pray to, whenever we are going through bad things in life. It’s important to always pray my son”
Please hang me! Hang me right now! I scream inside my head
“Yes mom, I know. Thank you for being there for me.” I said in an irate tone. I think my dad sensed the sarcasm in my reply as he adjusted the rear-view mirror above him to look straight into my eyes as he commented.
“You don’t even mean that do you? You know we are sick and tired of this I don’t care attitude that you have towards life” he’s getting furious.
“You are a very young man full of potential, but you are wasting it all on the stupid things that you let your mind worry about.”
And daddy wins the ‘Father-of-The-Year’ award: I keep to myself
“And we know about Amana, her uncles came to pay us a visit this past Friday.”