One night a week, my friends and I would go to the school gym and play basketball. To play at the school we needed a chaperone, and it was my Aunt and she didn't really pay attention to us. My friends that night were all wired from some No-Doze pills and it really pissed me off that we weren't really playing cuz they were busy goofing around. I left in my car in the middle of our time there. I was speeding down back roads not giving a damn about anything. I was about to run my car into a tree and at the last minute I pulled back on the road. I wrote a note to one of my best friends about that night. I had no idea the effect it would have on me.
My friend gave my note to the school psychologist, who I had been seeing off and on through-out the year. It was my second class of the day, which it was actually a study hall, that I was called into the psychologists office. I'm not clear on everything that was said, but I knew I was in big trouble. After talking to her for about 30 minutes, she sent me to class and told me that if it was too much for me to sit in class then go back to her office. It was a couple classes later that I got pulled into the guidance counsler's office, where eventually my mom showed up. They told her to take me to the hospital and tell them I was there for crisis.
They took my clothes except underwear and socks and gave me a gown and put my clothes in a bag and took them out of the room. To this day I still remember the room number... 7. I hate that room to this day. It was hours till I saw someone from the crisis team. She talked to me for about 30 to 45 minutes. Then she talked to my mom. Needless to say, I ended up in the psych ward that night. My mom came up with me until they got me settled. I had cigarettes on me that my mom didn't know I smoked but she said it was O.K. for me to do while I was there if I wanted. I cried that whole night. I will write more later. 
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