Hemmo.

I rub my eyes and sit up onto the hard bed. The morning chest pains come as I realize for the millionth time that I haven't been dreaming for two years. It really happened. I messed up, really bad, and it put me in a mental hospital. I'm not really crazy, but everyone here says they're not really crazy, and believe me, some are more than crazy, so I keep quiet.
I do my daily round of banging my head on the Wall and saying how stupid I am, and decide to eat; cause I am hungry. I make my way to the hall, grab a piece of toast, and sit next to Andrew, the only person who seems half sane in this place. He's a very nice person, and although he's mentally ill he's very clever and there's no point in him being here. To keep me company. "Morning," I mumble.
"Good morning. Personally, do you think there's life after death?" I shrug. Every day, he comes up wih some new philosofical question. "I think not."
"You don't?"
"No, I don't."
"Hm.." I honestly couldn't care less, but I don't want to hurt him. Suddenly, one of the patients, Marianne, comes up to us with a leaflet. "What's this?" I ask.
"We're planning to escape." She looks very pleasd with herself.
"Really?"
"Yeah!"
"What do you plan to do?"
"You'll have to read. It's a super dangerous mission, though." I smile polietly. She's around 23 years old, but I overheard the careworkers saying she had the mental age of a 10-year-old or something. Poor thing.
"You won't be able to do it," Andrew says. Marianne's face falls.
"Why?"
"Because there are guards outside this, and they watch the place all the time."
"Yes, but - "
"There are also cameras. They watch all the time." Marianne looks more hurt every second.
"I'm sure you'll find a way to escape," I say nicely, and she looks slightly happier again.
I finish my breakfast and go back to my room. There are all sorts of activities going on today, but I will skip them. I don't want to do any of that. I sit on my bed, feeling one thing: regret. This feeling crosses my mind at least thirty times a day. I regret following that stupid light. Luke, you're a human, not a god damn cat! I don't feel human anymore. Because of me, 5 Seconds Of Summer died.
I don't really know what happened, but my guess is that box thing was something that controlled memories, and at a hand's touch gets erased. I don't know. All I know is I am a dumbass.
Suddenly I am awakened by a knock on the door. It's probably a careworker forcing me to do some stupid activities. Wait, Careworkers don't knock. I slowly open the door. Andrew. "Look, Andrew, I'm sorry, I'm not in the mood for going to any activities."
"It's alright, neither am I. They're so borious." I'm guessing "borious" is a mix between boring and tedious. Lewis likes making up words. "Yeah." I take him in and we both sit on my bed.
"These beds are ever so uncomfortable." he states.
"They are..."
"I can never sleep well at night."
"Neither can I," I say, but for different reasons. Regret and head pains surround me at night.
"Andrew, why were you brought here?" I ask suddenly.
"Because I'm sick," he shrugs. "You?"
"Because I'm sick too," I lie. "Because I did something really stupid."
"I did stupid things, too."
"What I did was way too stupid. It is unforgettable."
"One day things will be perfectulous." Perfect and Fabulous?
"I don't think so."
"They will."
He leaves to "do an activity". I highly doubt it. I lie on my bed, hating myself. What if I hadn't done what I did?

Notes

the bold text is the question yet tto be answered:)