I was in the hospital at Stanford, it was night time, about ten o' clock.

The nurse came by to give me my meds.

I spit them out because the voices told me that they were poison.

I remember the way she look at me, so kind and understanding, as if this was a frequent happening.

When she came back the second time, I swallowed the pills, all of them. At the time, I never knew that those fucking pills were going to be what saved me. I was too fucked up in the head.

That--and avoiding the shower room.