Toolgun. Trenchcoat. Collecting a ride on the housekeeping cart.
Elderspeak is ever-present. I see it almost every day I’m here. Why would you talk to an old resident like a pet? Laughing at them for being covered in fucking ice cream. Talking to them like children, as if they wanted this. DS deserves a better death than this place.
This place has a layer of negligence, neglect, uncoordination, inefficiency. Thin, could be thicker. But it’s there.
If I could break free. Hidden camera. PEN camera. Record the sadness, the truth. Take a ride.
Where would I send it?