I saw you yesterday. They asked me if I wanted to see you and I said I did because I'm so lonely. I walked into the room and there you were. You looked exactly the same as when I last saw you, 3 months before. But there was one change. Pity. You had pity written all over your face from the beginning to the end and it showed in your voice, too. The entire time you talked to me like I was a preschooler. But I'm not stupid. I know.
At least you were kind enough to visit me. No one else has done that. I guess they're afraid of me. Intimidated. Or maybe just afraid. They're afraid to see how easy it really is to go over the edge. They're afraid because they know that it's possible for them to wind up here, and they just don't want to admit it to themselves. You're afraid, too. I saw it in your eyes. You used to love me. Now you just fear me. But at least you were courageous enough to visit me.
I'm not stupid. I know how people talk. They sit around and gossip about me, saying things like 'It's such a shame, what happened to her,' and 'It's terrible, that perfect girl ending up like this.' I know I'm a disgrace to my family now. I was my parent's only child, and now I'm a failure, so now there's no hope for our family. I know that my friends are ashamed that they ever knew me, let alone associated with me. And you. You wish you'd never met me. You just visited me out of sympathy. I'm not stupid. I know.
You know, I'm not as crazy as you and everyone think I am. I don't remember any of the things they told me I'm here because of. I don't remember any of it. I guess I simply lost control. Everyone loses control. I lost it in a more dramatic way. But now I am here, and they've made it so that no matter what I do, I'll never be able to regain my control. I'm stuck here forever, and everyone knows it.
Yesterday, I watched you as I walked in. Your eyes studied me, and the pity remained in them as you did so. You realized how sad my current state really is, and you felt sorry for me. You felt sorry for what I've become. But you don't even know what I've become. I'm more than just a messed-up girl with frizzy, unbrushed hair and a pale face. Just because I'm in a mental hospital doesn't mean I don't have feelings. It doesn't mean that I'm not a person. Here, everyone treats me like some sort of distorted animal. But I'm still human. No matter what, I'm still human. I still have feelings. I'm still lonely. I still love you. And I still miss you. But that doesn't matter to you. You'll never love me again.
I'm not stupid, Brian. I know.