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I’m not really sure what to say here. I’ve never kept a diary or a journal before, but it’s a requirement that all patients write in their journal once a day, recording their feelings and the happenings of their day. Right now, I’m feeling… frustrated, I guess. You see, my parents got tired of my introverted nature and lack of ambition, so they decided to drop me off here, at EndEr ASylum *.
I guess I should introduce myself first, huh? My name is Aspen Winterbrook, I’m twenty-years-old, and I grew up in Windenburg with my parents, Helen and Robert. My mother works as a politician and she’s a bit of a snob, materialistic, and ambitious. She knows what she wants and will do anything to get there, no matter who she has to screw over to do it. My father works as a doctor and he’s also ambitious, though not to the degree where he’s screwing over others. He’s also outgoing and a bit of a genius.
Me? I’m nothing like them. I’m not ambitious at all and I prefer to read books rather than deal with other sims because I’m a huge bookworm. I’m also a bro – I love to watch sports and I’m a total tomboy. The thing that got me sent here is my gloomy nature. One minute I feel fine and happy, and the next I just feel sad for no reason. It usually passes fairly quickly, but my mom was tired of ‘dealing with my mood swings’. My dream is to become a renaissance sim and be good at multiple things at once so I can prove to my mom that I’m not useless.
This is Jane Waters, the administrator that runs EndEr ASylum *. I don’t know anything about her, but something about her makes me feel… on edge. Like she’s hiding something. She feels kind of two-faced, but I guess I’m just making early assumptions.
From left to right – Steven Lai, Deidre Schroeder, and Tim Bowden.
Steven is the oldest guy in the asylum at sixty-eight years of age. He seems like a friendly old man and I can’t help but wonder why he’s here and why he’s been here the longest.
Deidre is twenty-three and pretty eccentric. She has personal space issues, always getting too close, but she seems nice enough. Most of the time, she only talks about music.
Tim is… not a person I like. He’s forty-one and has an old-fashioned mindset – you know, women belong in the kitchen cooking and cleaning. He’s pretty blunt and a bit mean, too, and won’t hesitate to insult you to your face.
The woman is named Gretchen Falk and she’s a bookworm like me, so we bonded pretty quickly over our favorite titles and authors. She’s a really nice woman, age thirty-eight, and I consider her to be my first friend.
The guy in the back is named Aubrey Bartlett and he’s a flirt without boundaries. He speaks his mind without thinking about if it might offend or hurt someone. When we first met, he didn’t hesitate to tell me how ‘hot my ass is’ and how he wants to smack it. It’s safe to say that he’s not my favorite person. He’s twenty-seven years of age.
Finally, there’s Dante Buckley, twenty-five years of age. When I first arrived at this asylum, I was really nervous and scared, not knowing what to expect, and Dante was the one that approached me first and calmed me down. Something about him seems very calming, like a protective older brother.
You probably noticed, but we’re all wearing the same outfit. It’s a requirement to being a resident here and the only variation we get is a sweater for when it gets too cold. At least they aren’t using those hospital gowns here, I would have hated that, and these clothes are kind of comfy.
After getting introduced to everyone, I immediately migrated to the bookcase to calm my nerves. Dante joined me and we read in silence for the next thirty or so minutes.
Everyone else was gathered in the kitchen, talking and laughing loudly as if they weren’t locked up in an insane asylum.
Maybe after you’ve been here a while, you start to loosen up and relax.
When I went to put my book back, Gretchen pulled me off to the side to talk about her favorite series – The Hungry Sims. Personally, I’ve never read it, but I’ve always heard decent things about the series. The way she so passionately describes it, I’m tempted to give it a try. Not like this place has it, though.
After standing for a few minutes, we headed over to the chess table to play a game while continuing our conversation. My dad taught me how to play when I was young and I’ve always loved playing ever since, but I usually play alone since mom hates it and dad is usually at the hospital.
The bathroom here is one rectangular room, separated into sections. The hallway is narrow, and there’s a toilet stall on either side. A small sink is put behind that and then the shower and tub are sectioned off for privacy. The walls are paper-thin, though, and while I was washing my hands, I heard Tim having a full-on conversation with the toilet… He was even pausing as if waiting for a response.
I found out that there’s a basketball hoop out in the yard. I use to play on my middle school team and it was a lot of fun. It was the closest I ever got to being social, even though I only exchanged a few words with my teammates.
Gretchen was surprised by my skill and asked me if I would teach her how to play since she never has before. She seemed eager and I thought this would be a good chance to bond. I may be an introvert that prefers books over sims, but if I’m going to survive in this place, I know I need allies.
I taught her the basics, which she caught onto pretty quick – she’s a natural! I challenged her to a shooting competition and she beat me, even though the score was pretty close. I should have felt annoyed that a beginner had beaten me, but instead, I felt proud of her. She was obviously quite happy about it, too.
I got to spend more time with Steven, as well. His presence is a comfort because he reminds me of my grandpa before he passed away when I was a kid. He’s a total foodie, so he spends most of his time upstairs watching the cooking network on the small, square TV that has to be at least twenty-years-old.
My mother was never a homebody, so she never cooked or cleaned – she had people to wait on her hand and foot. Because of that, I never learned how to cook. I settled for a simple salad because it seemed easy to make, but I ended up jabbing my finger with the knife while I was cutting the tomato. It was just a butter knife, though, so it didn’t hurt too bad. Imagine if they gave mental patients sharp knives… I shudder at the thought.
I was just washing the bowl I had used when the lights clicked off, bathing the asylum in darkness. Dante noticed my confusion and explained that every night at 9:30pm, the lights get shut off to save power and encourage the residents to head to their rooms. It doesn’t seem very effective, though, since most of them continued on like the lights were still on.
I learned that the bedrooms are kept locked during the day to prevent the residents from sleeping all day and they are unlocked when it’s lights out. Speaking of the bedrooms, they are bare and cold and even have metal bars so the staff can see into the rooms at all times. An empty crate acts as the bedside table and the bed is stiff and uncomfortable. At least they don’t make us sleep on the floor…
There are four rooms total, not including Jane’s.
Aubrey and Steven share a room. Gretchen and Deidre share a room. Dante and Tim share a room. I got lucky and I have a room to myself, but the bed sitting unused in the corner makes me wonder if that will last.
Not sure if I should say goodbye at the end of these things or not, but I’m going to bed. That brings my first day at EndEr ASylum * to a close.
Good night, journal, I guess.
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