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2 min readJan 19, 2023

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Photo by Bianca Ackermann on Unsplash

Am Happy

March 23rd 2019

The nurse wheeled him in. His disturbed smile stayed in place as he turned to face his wife and daughter.
He had invited them to this psychiatric ward on a whim. They believed him to be in trouble so swiftly they moved. Vanessa hadn't seen her husband in a few months. She stood there wondering who would now be staring back at her.

December 18th 2018

He had done what he believed to be right in every instance that involved his wife. She wanted to go to school, he started working overtime so she could get in some classes. Once she got a part time and felt like she could blossom as a manager, he supported her and continued his trek at a job he despised, neglecting his call to be luchador.

She fell in love. All those hours that her job demanded led her to falling in love with a man that worked as many hours as she did.

Pathetic and aimless, he ventured down the inevitable. A black spiral of overthinking and booze. Endless swiping on obscure dating apps. Oxy's and codeine to satiate his flirt with lady death.

Through countless conversations with his now ex-wife, it boiled down to how cold he had grown. The shell of a man that came home after working a job he found no delight in after 12-hour shifts, 6 days a week. Even with a full workload to keep his hands busy and cognitive diffusion to help him cope with his anxiety, he found no answer. He thought the way he thought and there was no real remedy for what wasn't an ailment. His logic took him in circles leading him to the same conclusion.

He was in his head too much.

Enter google.

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Lobotomy.

Do I need this?

Will this help me?

Risks?

Where can I get a lobotomy?

After much deliberation, he finally circled his definitive decision with a resounding YES.

March 23rd 2019

He smiled at them full heartedly now. No logic. No reason to look at the future and worry. No sense in going through past turmoil to recycle his pain.

"He can't talk. He can write, though." The nurse said, her demeanor as cold as the pale walls of the room.

On his lap sat a small chalkboard and in his jangled right hand a small peice of chalk. His movement was jumbled and erratic. When he finished, he turned it around.

Tears rolled won her eyes as she read aloud "Am Happy."

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