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Okay, so, this last failure was the closest to success, though still horribly misguided by the glorious whimsy and folly of desire.

Attempt three! So, it's been about a month since attempt two. It's now the beginning of august, and I've been transferred to another psych ward. This one is fuckin' classy, for proper schizos only. We got ping-pong and foosball, CBT discussion groups, a room to ourselves, and an accompanied walk around the perimeter of the hospital every day. It sucked.

Obviously if you want someone to reintegrate into society it's easier to do it with a gentle hand. I didn't like it, mostly for that reason. The standard of living was clearly better, but it was the same authoritarian bullshit, just with a bit of lube this time.

Regardless, I was patient. I applied for a review of my internment, basically asserting legally that I had the capacity to make my own decisions. What's kinda weird, where I am, is that if they determine you a threat to yourself or others you can lose the right to opt into treatment. Obviously you can't turn down the meds, but you actually can't legally accept them either. You have to take the treatment set out for you by a psychiatrist, and if you don't they'll keep your ass locked up. Probably nothing too surprising for you here. I'll move on.

I applied for a review and represented myself, as I'd already had a state provided lawyer half-ass it with no visible results. The lawyers in attendance thought I was the doctor until the doctor walked in, which was kinda funny. Anyway, long story which mostly involves waiting and listening short, they denied my claim to agency the next day. I put on two pairs of underwear and socks, stuck my rolling papers and lighter in my pocket, went for my daily walk.

Oh, other relevant thing, they put me on welfare, so I suddenly had $500. Straight ballin'.

We circle the perimeter, and as we get close to my planned route I take off running. I ran until I couldn't anymore, then walked up to some lady getting her into her car and told her I was late for a doctor's appointment, and could she please drop me off at the bus stop. She brought me most of the way before, presumably, realizing I was some kind of escaped psychiatric patient and might stab her with a chopstick or something crazy like that. I thanked her for the ride, hopped out, bought a Dr. Pepper so I would have change for the bus, and walked to the bus station. After a mid-length bus ride, I got out at the place I hitch hike west from, and stuck my thumb out.

I was heading west for a week and made it around 800 kilometers. There's a lot of details to that week. I got picked up by a military cop who drove forty kilometers over the speed limit and had the nastiest hands, a lady pulled over because she could feel the amber necklace in my pocket and trusted anybody who would be carrying amber, I got laid on my third day sleeping at the farm of a lady who picked me up.

Anyway, I made it to the western edge of Lake Superior, to a town that's kind of a pain to hitch out of. A friend of mine was driving west all the way to the coast, and the day I was going to meet up with them I got picked up by the cops. I got IDed buying cigars at some gas station, and I guess there had been an article about me in a local paper. They called the cops, and I pretty much complied when the cop pulled over and called me by name.

Summary of the lessons learned:
Patience is important. In psych wards you can feign compliance for a while and they'll let you start walking around on the outside.

Take the shortest route out of the province (maybe state too, I don't know the laws down south) available to you, the paperwork that's going to keep you in the hospital doesn't mean shit outside of the province it's issued in.

Don't show your ID, and maybe shave that beard off, you look like an asshole.

Don't give up, you aren't caught until you're behind a locked door.

Anyway, fuck you guys, I'm going to sleep. Don't wake me up unless there's a fire or cops or you've found more cigarette butts. Thanks for listening.