I’ve got an action plan. Considering that I’ve been very nice to these assholes recently, going along with taking their pills and not being whoever threw a chair across that room for the horribly planned group session, I think I deserve some of these privileges that the weird psychologist lady keeps throwing around. She specifically said I would get to go outside if I co-operated with the group session, and I co-operated just fine. It wasn’t me who spoiled the whole thing.

Not that I can blame the poor fucker who did. Especially not if it was Helen. She’s been silent ever since. I’m getting genuinely worried, but part of me is getting paranoid about knocking on the wall. If any of those facility fuckers hear me doing it, they might think I’m going properly insane and keep me in here forever.

Well, they might be keeping me in here forever anyway, but I’m holding onto the hope that they’ll let me out at some point. It might be a stupid hope, but I think it’s the only thing keeping me going at the moment.

Anyway, those privileges seem like gold dust, and I’m not gonna throw away her mention of being allowed outside like it was nothing. I did what she wanted – I filled in the form and I walked to the room. Granted, I didn’t do any of the group stuff because of it not happening, but I still went through the motions and I didn’t even make a fuss when I got dragged back here! In my books, that’s worth a reward.

So, the next time she comes in here, I’m going to demand that I’m let outside. I would say that I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, but I don’t think I really have any ground to stand on if she does refuse me. It’s not like I can get up in a strop and shout ‘You’ve lost a customer!’ and storm out.

I really wish I could, though. She’s a shit psychologist. I don’t even know what a good psychologist looks like and I can still tell that she’s shit. If she even is a psychologist. To be fair, I don’t think she’s ever outright said that. She might be a nurse. Or a… something else medical sounding. Or a receptionist.

It'd be a weird gig for a receptionist, but this is a weird place, so I can imagine that happening.

No matter what she is, though, I’m gonna remember my demands. Fuck it, I’ll write them down. That’s probably the best way to make sure that I don’t forget, given that my memory hasn’t been the most reliable part of my brain recently. Right, here we go.

My Demands (Non-Violent Demands But Still Demands So You Better Give Me Them Or Else I’ll Be Sad Or Something)

1.     I want to go outside in that enclosure bit you talked about.

a.      I deserve this because you said I could if I co-operated with the group thing, and as far as I know, I co-operated.

b.     Your shit security and pre-pre-pre-pre-checks are not my fault. If I was you, I’d be giving me all of the privileges as an apology for your miserable failing with that whole thing.

2.     I want to see other people who you’re keeping here.

a.      Maybe not whoever threw the chair though. Or if it is them, could you have them in those handcuffs so they don’t throw anything at me?

b.     I deserve this one because the group thing would have let me see them anyway, and, once again, you miserably failed at that whole thing, so I would like to be compensated.

c.      Psychologist lady does not count. Guards also don’t count. I’m talking about specifically other people like me.

3.     I want to have some form of contact with the outside world.

a.      I deserve this because fuck, even prisoners are allowed to send letters and stuff. Let me send letters! You gave me paper!

i.     You might have to give me the addresses of my family and friends, though, because I can’t remember those.

b.     I deserve this because you said that they were aware of what’s going on, and you can look over the letters and whatever you want, I just want to actually hear from someone outside of these walls.

4.     I want a shower.

a.      I deserve this because I stink. You can tell I stink, I can tell I stink, and my pits might be growing mould by this point.

b.     Also, I’m pretty sure hygiene is a human right. If it’s not, it should be.

c.      I literally do not care if it’s a bucket of water, a communal shower or if you add a five-star hotel ensuite to the side of my room.

i.     I am not washing myself with the water from the toilet. If you think that’s a solution, you can all go fuck yourselves.

5.     I want some sort of routine.

a.      Again, even prisoners have routine. And I know you probably put the meal through at the same time every day, but that doesn’t count. The pills show up at random times and I’m struggling to tell day from night with all the electric light. It's all fucking with my brain.

b.     Even though I don’t need it, I would even take daily five-minute fucking therapy sessions or meditation sessions or whatever. Just something to break up the nothingness.

c.      A clock also wouldn’t go amiss. I don’t see why it would be such an issue for me to know what time it is. I could actually try to get a proper sleep schedule if I had a clock.

To be honest, I feel better after writing all of that out, regardless of whether I get them or not. It almost feels like a manifesto. Not that I’m some political party leader or anything – but it does feel nice to have some sort of purpose again.

My heart’s actually beating a little faster than it usually does. It’s reminding me of banging on that bloody door for ages to get pen and paper, only my knuckles don’t hurt this time.

Swings and roundabouts, I guess.