“To the Stunning Slavic Girl at St. Alphonsus”— A (One-Sided) Queer Love Story by M. M. Grim

I’m so incredibly sorry for being too shy to get your name. Actually, I’m sorry for barely exchanging even just 10 words with you during my 2 1/2 week stay at the St. Alphonsus psych ward. You deserved a friend in there.

I’m so truly sorry that I was too caught up in my own problems during my stay there, and that I wasn’t able to give you the best of me. You deserved the best of me— and nothing less.

Unfortunately, I am very shy and I was intimidated by your beauty. Also I was such a mess, both mentally and in terms of physical appearance. I didn’t feel worthy of speaking to you. Yet you approached me first, and spoke to me as if I’d already known you for years. I was baffled.

You were as sweet as a peach plucked off a tree and devoured under sunshine in the summer heat.

You spoke very little and were often standing alone.

You looked gorgeous, but not like a doll— like a statue carved in marble, draped in gold and encrusted with jewels of every color, with brown jewels for eyes that glowed like amber pots of honey in the sunlight.

I hate to be so shallow going on and on about your appearance, but the sight of you really struck me for some reason.

I will admit, I checked you out quite a bit while you were in the hallway talking on the phone. However I tried to not let my eyes linger on you for too long— you’re a lady and you deserve nothing less than the upmost respect. You didn’t deserve to ogled at by a strange, queer girl like me.

You were about the same height as me (approx. 5’6), but if you were a bit taller I could easily see you on the cover of Vogue, or strutting down a runway during Paris Fashion week.

You had the physique and the bone structure of an absolute Goddess. Your beauty was classic, yet timeless; like a freshly-picked crimson rose or diamond—your beauty was iconic. In my opinion, at least.

Had you been born a thousand years ago or a thousand years into the future— you’d still be revered for your appearance by any and all that crossed your path.

Your beauty is timeless.

I hope you know how lovely you are, and I hope you realize your true worth— priceless. Absolutely priceless! There will never be another like you.

I hope that you are now able to take a firm grasp of this reality that we live in, so that you may hold onto it dearly and get the most out of it.

Beautiful stranger— you are an original piece of art made by the Lord in his own image. I hope that you cherish yourself and the life that you live, and that everyone in your life does the same.

You deserve all the best in life my dear. Not only the necessities, but all the luxuries life has to offer as well.

I hope you marry a man that is rich, smart, and kind. I hope he is 100% faithful to you not because he feels he has to— but because he wants to, and only has eyes for you.

I hope you both have stable careers, a swanky house in an upscale neighborhood— complete with 2.5 kids, a cat, a dog, and a white picket fence.

I can tell you’ve been through some major hardships— I can see it in the faraway look in your eyes. Don’t give up on this lifetime, sweetheart. The best is yet to come. You’ve got so much to live for and so much to look forward to.

I hope that the people closest to you treat you well, my dear— I hope that every stranger you encounter is kind and has good intentions for you as well.

It would break my heart to know that anyone is mistreating you. I hope nobody ever does you wrong like what was done to me. I hope you have the strength to leave immediately— if anyone were to ever hurt you.

Even if you have no place to go. I hope you leave.

I didn’t have a spine. I kept going back, and I gave a million second chances when I should have given zero. I should’ve walked away. “Sunk cost” comes to mind when I think of the last 2 years of that utter Hell I used to call a relationship.

Trauma bonds are so very real and so very hard to break.

I hope you never find yourself in a place like where I found myself, my dear— and if you do, I hope you’re capable of not only walking— but running the fuck away, as fast as your feet can carry you.

I would hope that you would never look back or reconsider (even for one millisecond!) putting yourself back in a situation where you’d been mistreated or hurt by anyone else.

I wish I would’ve gotten your name, strange Beauty. I desperately want to tell you not to repeat my mistakes.

Surely, I would hope and prefer to believe that you are stronger than I am? I hope you’re better at saying “no” to people. I hope you have firm boundaries and that you don’t pander to what others want for you.

I hope you do what you want for you, and I hope you’ve got a mind of your own to know when something isn’t right; when people are being toxic, lying, or taking advantage of you.

I spent the majority of my teens and young twenties stuck in a haze due to gaslighting. I am now 27 years old, and my mannerisms still reflect the gaslighting I endured.

I apologize incessantly, and for no reason at all many times. It annoys me to say the least, and it embarrasses me because others probably find it annoying too. I’m working on it, but it’s definitely an uphill battle.

Thank you for not being critical of me, dear.

To the lovely Slavic girl I met in the hospital, wherever you may be:

I hope you are living your best life out there, and unapologetically so. I hope you know your worth, I hope you’re picky with the friends you keep and the lovers you meet. I hope that bright soul of yours manifests yourself a much better life than what you and I had at St. Alphonsus. Nobody deserves to live like that, especially a nice girl like you.

I hope you stand firmly in your convictions, and that you follow you heart, your mind, and your inner moral compass that relies upon both. I hope that you stay true to yourself, sweetheart. Don’t let anyone compromise your well-being or happiness, and don’t let anyone live through you vicariously.

Pretty girl, I do hope that you surround yourself with people that are on “your team”, and want what’s best for you— not a bunch of leeches that only want what’s best for themselves, and try to covertly play you to their advantage.

I hope your will is unbreakable, my dear. I hope that it cannot even be bent— let alone broken.

Many years of trauma have given me an incredibly strong will. It’s one of the only good things that’s come out of my mess of a life.

I pray that you don’t have to live through even half of the B.S. I’ve had to experience, just to get to where I’m at today.

Seriously though girl, I hope you take zero bullshit from anyone. I don’t care if it’s your dad, your sister, your uncle, Barack Obama, the old lady that lives across the street, or your dog… I don’t care if it’s the fucking Pope for Pete’s sake…

DO NOT PUT UP WITH ANYONE’S BULLSHIT.

If someone is mistreating you in any way, please leave as quickly and safely as possible.

You do not deserve to be mistreated in any way; there is no reason for you to “settle” for anyone or anything— whether that be a significant other, a career, a living situation, a lifestyle choice… anything!

You have room to be picky, so be picky! Damn it. Be picky. You’re worth it! You can afford to be.

Don’t settle for anything less than the best— for anything in life at all, dear.

(I wish someone had instilled these beliefs in me long ago when I was still young and impressionable. It would have saved me years of time, and would have spared me from a lot of depression and heartbreak).

To the sweet Slavic Girl I met in the Hospital, who’s name I was too shy to ask for:

I pray to the powers that be— the very moment that something seems off to you about a friend, family member, boyfriend, coworker, or acquaintance—

I hope you run for the hills, and never look back. No matter who it is. Toxic people wear many faces. They may even begin as your best friend. Over time, true colors start to show and you may feel too deeply entrenched in the relationship you have with them, and thus have a hard time letting go.

Well let me tell you something, dear:

Do not fear letting go of anyone or anything whatsoever. The Universe is in a constant state of change— nothing is ever constant or truly guaranteed. Every tie will someday come undone; every bond that’s made will eventually be broken. Everything that stands united as one on this Earth— will someday slip apart and fade away, only to be reclaimed by the Universe so that the cycle may start again. Such is life. That is exactly what makes life so uncomfortable sometimes, my dear. I wish I could’ve told you all of this. I could see an uneasiness in your eyes, as if you were afraid of what’s to come. Do not have fear— constant change is the natural state of the Universe we live in. Embrace it. Use it to your advantage.

The last time I spoke to you, we were standing in line in the cafeteria waiting for dinner. A train blew its horn in the distance and you glanced out the window towards the sound, eyes wide. Then without skipping a beat, you turned to me and said, somewhat frantically,

“I think that when you can hear the train whistle blow, that means that God is coming.”

Then, you leaned in a little closer to me and asked in the sweetest little voice, “do you think that God is coming?

Oof. I am definitely not the authority on that, and most likely not the person you should be asking that question, my dear.

As I looked back at you, your eyes were sparkling and big as saucers. You looked like you truly didn’t know the answer, and that I had some huge secret to tell you or something.

I felt a strong pang of sadness and desperation wash over me for a few seconds. I hope you didn’t see it in my eyes. So I looked at you, sweet girl, and calmly said,

“maybe.”

I didn’t have the heart to say that I don’t know, or that he’s not coming—

and I especially didn’t have the heart to lie to you and say yes, since I didn’t know if that was true.

I would never lie to you. Not even just to make you feel better.

You had this look of hope and wonder sparkling in your eyes. It was one of the purest things I’ve ever witnessed. Pure, unfettered wonder and hope— I am so grateful that nobody had stolen the light from within your eyes; from your spirit within, and that I was able to witness the glow from within the soul that you kept hidden deep inside.

The Lord very well may be coming for you, my dear—

As for me, I’m not so sure. I’ve got plenty of demons to battle before I’m met with eternal bliss, or at least I believe that to be the case.

I understand that you are Schizophrenic, and for that you have my sincere condolences. I watched you pace around your room; talking amicably to the walls. I saw that you refused medication whenever it was brought to you, and refuse to bathe whenever staff suggested it.

However, it did not make you any less beautiful to me.

At the end of my stay at the hospital, you walked up to me looking confused; asking me questions about what a Power of Attorney was.

I understand that your parents were trying to have you sign Power of Attorney paperwork so that they could make your medical decisions. It did not appear to me that you had the facilities to be making your own medical decisions— so I put it in Layman’s terms for you, and tried to convince you to make one of your parents your Power of Attorney, so that you could get the care you needed in order to get better.

I think you went ahead and did that. I hope you’re getting the care that you need now.

I hope that after signing your paperwork, you received a speedy and thorough medical intervention so that you may peacefully stabilize— and become happy and healthy enough so that you may never have to return to the dark, gloomy place that I found you.

That psych ward felt like Purgatory, my dear. It breaks my heart to think that you may still be in there, or even committed to the State Hospital now.

I hope that all the doctors, nurses, and med techs that you encounter in your life have strong hearts to pair with their strong minds.

I hope everyone you meet on your path to recovery is compassionate and understanding of you, however strange you may be. I’m a very strange person as well, and unfortunately I feel as though we were misunderstood by the Hospital staff to the point where it did us some actual disservice.

I am still thinking about contacting some sort of advocate to share what happened to me in there, as well as the “protocol” and living conditions we were subjected to.

I will say one thing to you about what happened to me at that hospital, and I’ll leave the rest to share with an advocate for people who’ve been in my situation before:

I have literally seen starving pit bulls with rabies be treated with more dignity and compassion than how I was treated at St.Alphonsus by their staff who were supposedly following their “protocol”.

To the Slavic girl at St. Alphonsus— I hope that you were not subject to such ruthless mistreatment, like I was, while committed to that psych ward where we met after both of our failed suicide attempts.

The dehumanization lives with me to this day. I cannot shake that feeling. It’s hard for me to describe it.

When the feeling of it washes over me, time itself stands still. The world stops turning— without a sound, everything around me freezes in place. In my mind, dread washes over me like a tidal wave of raw sewage.

Yet obviously to the outside world, when I am in the midst of having a flashback, I appear to be spacey, dumb, ditsy, and easily distracted.

Thank you for not judging me, beautiful girl. The way you spoke to me was one of the only comforts I had in that cold, unforgiving place.

God bless anyone and anything that has ever felt so out of place as you or me.

Like fish out of water; we were not made for this world, yet try as we might to assimilate and “just be”.

The battles we fight for ourselves to live with normalcy and peace will prove to be lifelong, I believe.

Bless every living thing that has ever felt so hopeless and small;

whether it be an insect, a horse, a dove, fish or tree—

There is no walk of life that deserves to be treated with such cruelty.

The mentally ill are faced with such cruelty and negative stigma, even in this modern age we live in.

To the Slavic Girl at St. Alphonsus—

You are perfect just the way you are, don’t let anyone make you feel lesser-than due to your mental illness.

I am diagnosed as Bipolar 1, and although I am not Schizophrenic like you, my dear— I can identify with the struggle of having mental illness. The struggle of being misunderstood; hated, and feared— the struggle of it all is very real, indeed.

We will carry this weight until the day we die, my dear. I hope you are strong enough to make it until the end. I hope that you get the care that you need to live a full, happy life—

I hope you never have to return to pacing the halls of a dimly-lit psych ward, and stumble upon another odd, queer girl like me.

Let me tell you a secret, Strange Beauty:

We can see things that other people do not. The world may not have been made for us exactly, but due to our circumstances we have the capacity to do things that are extraordinary.

There has not been a single extraordinary artist, writer, musician, poet, or playwright that was without some form of mental illness.

That is because extraordinary people do extraordinary things, my dear. You are capable of extreme greatness— it is within our reach. We must only apply ourselves wholeheartedly… and never give up.

We will make it there someday, I believe.

You were like a lonesome crocus that I’d found on the ground while wandering a dark and gloomy forest.

You were the first little flower to poke it’s lovely head out and bloom in Spring— yet you were surrounded by a flowerbed mostly deceased. It did not shake you. You blossomed anyway. You amazed the world with your beauty and grace; even The Lord himself looked upon you and felt satisfaction with his work.

Despite all odds— despite all of the evil, pain, illness, suffering, and death that surrounds us all— there you were; unscathed and blooming towards grey skies. Grey, unforgiving skies which offered you so little in return. Yet still, you reached for them. Yearned for them; to open wide and turn blue, and compliment the energy that flowed from within you.

One of the girls I shared a room with told me, “if you go out and talk with the other patients, they’ll let you out quicker.” I had nothing to lose, and that is why I left my room to find someone to talk to. I’m glad you approached me. I was intimidated by your beauty and I was far too shy to speak to you first.

I am so glad that I met you. People like you give me hope, and add zest to my otherwise mundane existence.

Thank you, for being you, my dear. I hope that this cruel, unforgiving world we live in doesn’t change who you are, or take away the light from within your eyes.

It’s almost as if you didn’t realize how gorgeous you were. I’ve never met such a beautiful girl who was so sweet, mild-mannered and meek. If you ever decide to settle down and get married, sweetheart— I hope you only settle for the best and nothing less. I’m definitely not the best, but in my wildest dreams I could imagine spending the rest of my life with a woman as lovely as you. I’d give you my entire heart, and treat you like a Queen.

Maybe in another life; in a world that’s different yet parallel to ours, on our current plane of existence, space and time. We could be together.

If I do happen to cross your path again, I will remember to get your name. I will write it on my hand, or at least try to memorize it if I am without a pen.

To the Slavic Girl at St. Alphonsus, who’s name I wish I asked for: I hope you do get mentally well, but please— don’t let anybody take your soul, your heart, or that fighting spirit you’ve got burning from within you like a raging forest fire.

Your spirit burned like a desert sun above the Badlands in July. Your aura was a golden ochre— it shined like amber and I could feel the waves of it radiating off of you.

You were like a lone songbird on the only tree in the middle of a desolate plain; ravaged by war and disease.

Yet there you still were, unshaken by the death and destruction in your wake— to grace this ugly world with your sweet presence.

This world does not deserve people as wholesome as you, my dear. This world will chew you up and spit you out for being so mild-mannered, meek, soft-spoken, and truly kind. I only know this because that’s exactly what happened to me. I used to be as sweet as you, however I was much too kind. I was horrible at setting boundaries. I was a “people pleaser” to the point of it being toxic. I didn’t know how to set boundaries; and I gave way too many second chances.

I survived year 2020 by the skin on my teeth, and I have nobody to blame but myself for putting myself in that situation. I have no sympathy for myself, and I wish nobody else had sympathy for me either. Sympathy never did me any good; it’s never provided me any help or benefited my life in any way.

However, I happen to be a strong Empath. Empathy is the language I speak, and feeling other’s emotions has shaken me to my core, at times.

I was in an abusive relationship for almost 6 years with a paranoid schizophrenic Meth addict/alcoholic. After reading the diagnostic criteria in the DSM5, I realized my S.O. had a textbook case of Narcissistic Sociopathy— and that I needed to get away from him. Fast.

“Run,” my mind told my heart, “run away as quickly as your feet can carry you— and do not look back.”

My mind and my body often quarreled, at the time.

“DO NOT LOOK BACK!” My mind said, over and over again. I do believe it was my mind that saved my life; If I had followed my heart the entire way, I would have surely died.

My ex was like an “energy vampire”— absorbing all good things I had to offer while leaving nothing but destruction and burned bridges in his wake.

To the sweetheart of mine at St. Alphonsus: I hope you’ve got a mind of your own to NEVER, EVER stay in an abusive relationship of any kind. I’d be filled with sorrow to see your warm spirit turn cold if you were subjected to the torment of someone as toxic as my ex.

I’m afraid I’ve allowed this world to turn me cold.

Don’t lose yourself in the hardships of life, my dear. I’ve done that and I’m afraid of what it’s made me into.

My reality is so fragmented, my dear— I no longer know who I am anymore— that or I’m not sure who I’ve become... or if I even like the person I am now, after being shaped by so many traumatic experiences.

Life will let you down no matter what, my girl. You just need to learn to roll with the punches, and be able to adapt to change.

I’ve become a bit of a chameleon due to my past experiences, and honestly I feel as though it’s liberated me in a way. I used to get so hung up on certain people and certain things, which caused me a lot of mental anguish when I was younger. My new mentality has me feeling weightless, unlike before where I carried so much negativity, and held onto so much regret, sorrow, hatred, guilt, and shame.

There are toxic people everywhere, sweet girl. You looked vulnerable to me, and I became worried for you. It was almost as if you reminded me of my past self; the person I used to be before my traumas occurred.

They may break our hearts—

break our bodies…

break our minds.

But they will never break our will.

For that, we shall remain grateful.

The last time you spoke to me, we were in the cafeteria waiting in line for dinner. Everyone around us was chattering and making small talk. You and I were the quiet ones; I’m a shy introvert and I wondered if you were too.

You were absolutely stoic as you stood there, without a word for me or anyone else. I can imagine that the others may have been intimidated by your silence and your beauty. I know that I sure as Hell was.

I admired you from afar, like a rose grown down below off the edge of a steep cliff— a beauty calling out to be grasped, yet too far away to reach. We were both too hard to reach at that time, it seemed.

You and I isolated ourselves more than anybody else that was there. Whenever we were in a group setting, I stood next to you in solidarity. I felt as though I could understand you, to an extent. I felt as though I could relate to you, in a way.

We were both clearly very troubled at the time. We may have seemed aloof to the other patients, however I knew that we were too caught up in our inner thoughts to be making mindless banter with everyone else.

I stood by you in solidarity. I found understanding in your silence; and your slow but steady outward flow of energy gave me peace. You are clearly a healer, and so am I, or at least I’ve been told.

Sweet girl, don’t do what I did. Don’t let the world take you for all you’ve got.

I’m afraid I may have lost my faith, but I’ve held onto the last shred of it to pray to God that you be set free. I’ve prayed to the Lord to heal your troubled soul. I pray that you are healthy in mind, body, and spirit. I hope you were discharged from the hospital shortly after I was (which was in late Feb. 2020).

I am not very religious at all. But I prayed to keep you healthy and safe, wherever you may be. I’m beside myself to have not asked for your name, I would have written you a letter every day.

Thank you so much, for being the one person to put me at ease when nobody else in my life could, or would. We didn’t speak very much with each other at all— but I could tell you spoke the truth, as you knew it to be, at least.

Your dark brown hair was tied in a messy bun and sat like a nest; a crown on your head with wisps of hair that sat on your high cheekbones. Your face was like porcelain; you refused to take a shower the entire time we were there, yet you complexion remained immaculate.

If you haven’t left the hospital yet— just please hold on, and finish the rest of your time in those dark and dreary corridors, so that you may be well again someday. You’re strong enough to do it. I believe in you. The best is only yet to come— I promise. Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up, please.

I could tell that you had a strong spirit; that you’ve gone through many hardships and emerged a powerful woman with an unbreakable will. You were pure of heart, and you had a soul— and a very old one, at that.

To the Stunning Slavic Girl at St. Alphonsus— your strong spirit struck a chord with me. I will never forget you. I hope your spirit lives on elsewhere. I hope you now have the freedom to go where your heart desires, instead of being trapped behind the walls of a psych ward.

I sincerely hope that you’ve reached a place of stability in mind, body, and spirit; and that you are happy, healthy, and enjoying your time on this Earth.

Much love and take care,

Your secret admirer—

M. M. Grim