Unconscious

An injury to the brain is an overall “mind-frank”, it is as if the body’s main computer is placed in a blender and the strength was set to severe as the power was pushed. Some but not everything was disheveled to the point of undue Severability
From what I can tell, mixed with what I remember, leads me to believe that I unconsciously did me wrong. But then, of course, I was and am suffering from severe traumatic brain injury, not the severest but way more severe than not. The other people, both friends, and frenemies had their own doings when dealing with my situation. Some did not care, while others had f-are (fake-care) written all through their faces with crocodile tears streaming out of one eye. A select few, led by one, saw this as the chance they had long been waiting for, the chance to stick the knife in the back and/or twist. The keyword in the second sentence is “SEVERE”.
My senses came to enough to tell me that I was in a bed with a person in a medical uniform walking to and fro. There were others with him, “helpers”. For the idea that he was a doctor, and the helpers were nurses was not in my vocabulary at this time. This being the first season in my situation, they season I refer to as my (third-person) situation. The doctor was talking into some unseen thing, which later I would find out was a Dictaphone and the nurses, his little helpers scrambled around the room checking beeping computer screens and writing their findings on sheets of paper.
At some point, after viewing my surroundings, I reverted not by choice back to my delirious unconsciousness. My mother and grandmother, who had been in the room along with the doctor and nurses, were still present when I switched from unconsciousness to consciousness again. They both had the same look on their faces, the look as if what they saw that which was not happening.
The problem was that from the get-go, not really knowing the ins and outs of the world and people of the, I opened what was left of my uninjured self. Thinking since it was told me that select people were my best friends, they would only have my best interests in hand. Then, of course, being far simpler than am now, I chose to believe everyone. The saying believe people only as far as you can throw them didn’t come to mind ‘s eye, so believe people I did.
The reality that I had been lying to myself mixed with the select many that I called friends were supporting those lies presented itself to me again. This time, I began to believe it instead of fluffing it off as if something fake popped to mind. It’s a shame that it took a brain injury to open my eyes to the relationship between the world and I had become, but it’s better late than never. The hardest thing about my brain injury is that from Birdseye my disability is invisible, I have nothing wrong with me besides maybe a slight limp.
The maddening thing is people who knew of my accident look expectantly as if they are expectantly waiting for the mental twig to snap. The more I look through the Internet, the more grateful I am. Although not saying it enough, I will be forever grateful to my mother and her mother for the extra baggage that I am. You may say that that’s what parenthood is all about, and it is.
At some point well before my same-insanity began firing, I had given up, having long since resorted to choosing temporary fun over reality, I became a straight-faced clown of sorts. In my younger days and nights being good did not seem to be fun but the reality that fun rests on a person’s definition had not happened to my mind’s eye.

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