Black Hole Monologue

I woke up in my bed at the Stephens Adult Psychiatric Unit in Joplin, Missouri. I had dreamt of being back home the previous night, so it was crushing to wake up and realize where I was. It was my 2nd day there, but it felt like much longer. Most psychiatric units have a similar structure. During the week, there are group activities that preoccupy you enough to make the day somewhat bearable. The weekends are worse, because there is nothing. You can either sleep or watch television in the day room with the other patients. The lack of activity constantly reminds you that you’re trapped. That all of your belongings have been taken away. That you are not allowed to go outside at all during the duration of your stay. That you are virtually entirely isolated from the outside world. The only thing I had to look forward to during those days was the hour of visitation with my parents twice a day. You’d think a psychiatric unit would be the one place on

I don’t agree with Leo’s choice because he only just made the problem even more difficult for Stargirl and himself. During the shunning and after his visit with Archie there were times where Leo would avoid Stargirl and also he wishes that they could be more like them or they could be more like Stargirl. He doesn’t really do anything to fix the shunning. The only thing he did was change Stargirl into Susan, but it seems like it was more for Leo not for Stargirl. He seem to love Susan more than Stargirl because she finally more like them. Like the rest of Mika students.

It hits you like a freight train, or at least it did for me. I was thirteen when I stopped looking forward to things, and I swear it happened over night; like California in the summer, when everything seems okay and then you blink and it is all up in flames. I was thirteen years old when I came to terms with the fact that I no longer wanted to live.

If you grew up with white boys Who only look at black and Puerto Rican porno Cuz they want something that their dad don't got Then you know where you're at Mortaring your ear holes shut In a rush with wet coke In a Starbucks bathroom with the door closed On booze some left in residue and confused Like the first time you used soft water Down on my luck caught unaware Like Houdini when the last fist struck Sinking in laughing at something sunken in I am If I'm sinking in laughing at something sunken in I am

How did you last in the asylum that long chief? I pretended I was deaf and dumb so no one would bother me and I could hear all of the hospitals dark dirty secrets.

The use of confinement in the story can lead the reader to assume a number of different things about the setting of the book. The couple moves into a really nice mansion that no one has lived in for years. While the husband could have put his wife in any of the rooms of the house, he chose to confine her to a room that looked like a nursery. The woman being confined to a nursery can lead the reader to assume that they are treating her as if she is a kid. The nursery that she is put in is not an ordinary nursery; the nursery has bars over the windows. The bars over the windows are very significant to the setting. This particular aspect of the room can be related to a mental hospital. Mental hospital rooms would somewhat be described in the same way that the woman’s nursery is described in the book. Her bed is also nailed to the floor. All of these features of the room that she is placed in give the reader a hint that this woman is insane

Rosenhan mentioned that the staff members occasionally shouted at and sometimes hit mental patients who would attempt to make contact with them too often. Those occasions mentioned in the study were recorded from other hospitals and did not appear to occur within either the first or second experiment, however, the pseudopatients did report that they were ignored resolutely by the staff members and only had the other patients to interact with. Aside from being ignored by the authority figures in the building there was also little to no stimulation, patients would apparently wait outside the cafeteria for lunch simply because meals were one of the few things that patients had to look forward to. Most pseudopatients were bored enough to give actual patients psychological help, ask their relatives to bring them missed classwork, and a variety of other things to pass the time. On top of this they were under constant surveillance with only minor privacy in certain places, such as the bathroom. All of this cumulates into a very stressful situation that the pseudopatients endured for an average of nineteen days. However, no damage was reported in the study, all pseudopatients volunteered to act in the experiment, and it yielded important data that reveals quite a bit about psychiatric wards and the changes that should be implemented to make them better. Overall, it was worth the potential

How many patients have they experimented on? What if it is true, then what do I do right there and then? Several questions overloading my thoughts, nervously squeezing my hands. But once I saw the mental hospital I was less anxious. It was a beautiful place to be an asylum. It was clean, peaceful, smelled like roses, a sparkling water fountain right in the middle of everything, it was a perfect place. Maybe after all there's really nothing to worry about patients brutally being experimented on. But then I had a suspicious feeling of the mental hospital being to nice to be one. It could've been a way to convince people it wasn't a bad place. The only way to know really, is to go inside and check it myself.

I remember falling asleep, but I don’t remember being in a bed. I had fallen asleep in the hall due to my emotional state. My body didn’t need the sleep. My mind did. I’m actually happy I did. It got my mind off all my problems and sorrows for a good while. I sit up, pushing the unfamiliar blankets off my body. I’m in a strange hard bed in a foreign room. Everything around me feels new and alien. This isn’t my dull little prison. This room is slightly decorated with light brown walls and a dresser covered with random things.

My legs are shaking with pain, but I need to know where I am and what strange things lie outside of that door way. Slowly I am making my way there, I hear people having a conversation just outside. I haven’t a clue what they are saying, it seems to be in some odd language. Finally I’m at the door. Terrified, I grab the knob and start to open it. It squeaks when I swing it open. In the hall I see no one, just white walls with white tile. “What the,” I say to out loud. I could have sworn I heard someone. My eye catches my room number, 387, it has my name on it. I look right and left, but see nothing expect florescent lighting and shut doors. I go to the door across from mine and try to open it. Locked, that’s odd. I try the next one, locked once again. I keep going, now at room 365 I give the knob a turn and it actually comes open. I hesitantly wander into the area. It looks the same as mine, minus the painting on one of the walls. It is an extremely abnormal painting. It depicts an out of the ordinary creature. “Why would this be in a hospital?” I whisper to myself.

As Chief Bromden described the basic schedule of the ward he mentioned, “Every morning we sit lined up on each side of the day room, mixing jigsaw puzzles after breakfast, listen for a key to hit the lock, and wait to see what’s coming in” (Kesey 14). In the novel, the day room was where the patients spent their time during the day because it was easy for the nurses to monitor it. Moreover, Warwick Brunton stated that by the 1950s, psychiatric hospitals filled their day rooms furniture and fittings to make their patients surroundings more comfortable and home-like (“Mental Hospitals, 1910s to 1930s”). It can be inferred that since mental asylums in the 1950’s sought to make their day rooms more hospitable, their patients also spent most of their time there. Additionally, Chief Bromdem stated, “Wednesday’s the day they pack everybody up who hasn’t got some kind of rot and move to the swimming pool, whether we want to go or not” (Kesey 147). This shows how the psychiatric ward in this novel also had a swimming pool for the patients. Although swimming pools were less common in 1950’s mental hospitals, some of them did have one for therapeutic

My life was flashing before my eyes, I was realizing what was happening death was coming. Cold and stillness filled the room while the feeling of death started to overtake my body it was a different feeling but it had to come. My limbs felt heavy and I thought real slow everything was slowing down. Just then something odd happened like nothing I ever thought some sound came into the room an annoying buzzing creature.

Is this how it ends? I lay half buried in the sand and half exposed to the harsh rays of the blazing sun. I have shattered into nothingness. My heart is like a castle of sand, barely able to keep itself from falling apart and marked harshly by the betrayal of dark secrets and things I cannot forget. It was useless to try and chase these broken stars, useless to think that I could ever piece them back together, and useless to think that with a little glue and a tender touch that it would fix things. I am seconds away from falling into the cage of eternal despair, seconds away from completely losing my mind, seconds away from going up in flames. I’ll always remember the days before I met you, before you crushed my delicate heart, before you made

The year is 2185, scientists have just discovered how to teleport to any location in space in a blink of an eye. They have created a machine that can harness the abilities of a black hole to bend space time. This new invention revolutionizes the world and brings interstellar travel to mankind. Technology advances faster than ever and new discoveries are being made every day. Humans create an infinite energy source that will never run out and extend the human life. These abilities come from a wormhole in the center of a black hole. At this point in life’s existence, people have been able to look inside of a black hole which was thought to never be possible. While this may seem like a crazy science fiction novel that would only be seen in movies, it is theoretically possible in the universe. Black Holes are incredibly massive and mysterious, and could give mankind the answers to life’s biggest issues.

I can hardly think of a worse place to be tonight. Once again, I have to endure the company of a fawning bunch of pretentious pricks, quaffing on complimentary Cava and talking bollocks. Don’t get me wrong, I have a deep appreciation for the arts and especially photography, I’m a photographer myself, but the stuff on display here looks more like a bad sixth form art project to me. In all honesty, I’ve seen more artistic promise from my six-year-old, than this bunch of clueless bedwetters. The exhibition brochure they’re passing around boasts a collection of some of the finest talent in British contemporary art today, so I should being feeling privileged, but you know what? I’m not, and what’s more, I couldn’t care less for