The Paper Trails of a Parasite

It was my fourth session with my last therapist Mike when I finally opened up to someone about the reason I had to start taking clonazepam for panic attacks. It wasn’t because being a physics major gave me severe anxiety. Not because I had PTSD from the war. But because I fell in love with a 42 year old drug dealer… at 18.

I met Michael when I was in the mental hospital for trying to kill myself my sophmore year of college. A lot of people describe their time in a psych ward as some of the worst days in their life. But honestly, I felt like mine had just begun the second I got in there. I arrived around 4 am on Wednesday, 19 November 2025. Obviously at the time it was the absolute last place I wanted to be, to be frank, I didn’t even really want to die, I just needed a way to get out of my calc midterm. Perhaps an overdose wasn’t the answer; nonetheless, I was there, and no amount of acting or lying could get me out.

My first interaction with Michael happened around 4 pm that Friday. I had noticed him earlier that morning; when everyone else was getting their vitals taken, he was sitting in one of the common areas sipping coffee. I honestly didn’t pay him much mind. After our mandatory hour of downtime–which I’m pretty sure existed so we wouldn’t explode from the happy pheromones they pumped into the air(I swear they were real)–an older guy named Adam approached me asking if I knew how to play spades, to which I responded “I’m black, duh I know how to play spades.” Then of course it proceeded, the four of us–Adam, Michael, some guy that went by “Big Country,” and I–sat in front of the tv and played spades.

When I mentioned I didn’t really pay Michael any mind when I first noticed him, it wasn’t because I was being self-absorbed, I honestly just thought that I didn’t want anything to do with him. You could look at this man and obviously tell he did drugs. Probably every single one known to man. But did is past tense, so I’m going to edit that.You could tell this man is doing drugs. I try not to sit on a high horse, but I lost my childhood best friend to an overdose so I tend to pass on interacting with drug addicts. So what happened, Madisyn? Well… he looked at me.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. Those beautiful, hazy, muddy-green eyes.  And I felt as if he was looking through me, into my soul; looking back that feeling of his look was most likely caused by the fact that this man was currently in detox for fentanyl, potayto, potahto to me. At that very moment I could only think one thing, “Why do I think this crackhead is cute?” Our interactions that night were rather simple–just your usual spade game shit talking–but it was enough to get my brain addicted to him.

As soon as I left my room the next morning the guys were calling me over to a table to continue the game of spades. Michael wasn’t my partner so I got to sit next to him; a friend came and sat on the other side of me which just gave me an excuse to scoot my chair even closer to him. During that game I learned that Michael and I shared a love for 80’s metal and 90’s grunge, as you could probably guess by now, I thought this meant we were soulmates. We played all day long and I got to learn some pretty interesting things about him:

1. He was 42
2. He in fact was addicted to fentanyl and many other substances
3. He was sentenced to 30 years in Angola for the possession with intent to distribute of meth and heroin
4. He served 10 of those years
5. He casually jokes about during murder for hire (and also says he can hide the body… I don’t think he was joking)

Now, any sensible person would say “yea this probably isn’t the type of guy I want a future with,” welp guys, I’m just not a sensible person. You’re probably wondering what else, if anything else, he did other than look at me that had me head over heels. Well… he played the air guitar, but he looked at me when he did it. He handed me a phone after he finished speaking with someone for an hour–I must note that I in no way, shape, or form indicated that I wanted the phone. Whenever I dropped a card, he picked it up without hesitation. And after the workers took my books for a second day in a row he noticed and comforted me. See? Totally not delusional. 

Later on that Sunday I recall telling one of the workers that Michael looked like a short-haired Chris Cornell, yes, the same Michael that currently has his bottom row of teeth shifted and leaning from doing meth; I’m a dreamer, what can I say?  Unbeknownst to me, Sunday night would be our last time playing spades together. Now whether or not Michael actually had feelings towards me, we might never know, what we do know is I definitely made it obvious that I had feelings for him that night. Well… I might have made it obvious earlier when I shoved a piece of paper in his face with my instagram on it, but that could have been taken as a declaration of friendship. Either way, he definitely knew after “Big Country” overheard me calling him my man to another one of the patients and decided to tell him. I didn’t see Michael again that night. And as he disappeared, so did my mood; I kept to myself for the rest of the night. But this took a turn, so enjoy a recollection of one conversation Michael and I had that night:

Madisyn: Do you know what 67 is?

Michael:Nah what’s that

Madisyn:Actually I don’t know. Do you watch TikTok? Post?

Michael: Yea I be scrolling

Madisyn: Have you ever seen the movie Home? It’s one of my favorites

Michael: Ion think so, what’s it on?

Madisyn: Netflix… do you watch netflix?

Michael: Yea

Madisyn: A little Netflix and Chill?

Adam: Girl he’s too old to know what that is.

While I sat in pity, I decided to color him a picture, which is one of the limited things you’re allowed to do while in a mental facility, and write a note on the back saying, “Dear Michael, I lov” that was as far as I got before I went to bed. I had every intent on finishing it when I got up that morning until I received the devastating news that was the equivalent to George W. Bush learning that the second tower had been hit. As I walked into the common area I saw Michael signing his release papers. Was Madisyn being dramatic? Probably. Did it feel like a stake had been driven through my heart? Absolutely. And just to kick a dead horse, after he saw me walk in, he came over to me, patted my back, and asked, “you sad?”