What would you write locked in a psych ward? G. I. T. I. W. T. T. P. W. S. Y. D. H. T. was written over the course of the final 19 of 23 days spent inpatient at the NY Presbyterian Westchester Campus Psych Ward between November and December, 2020. It's poetry, scrutiny, self reflection, prophecy, love, fear, darkness, light. It captures the state of the mental health system and readers keep Heather company as she writes away the hours. She plays with concepts of time and space, rewrites We Didn't Start the Fire into We Didn't Start the Crazy, swoons over a relationship, faces all things that are making her anxious, introduces all things that came at intake and much from onsite workshops. This is a snapshot of a moment in time in psychiatric care, 23 days of incarceration against her will and randomly medicated. She had not planned to be an inpatient in a psych ward, but has no memory from 3pm Nov 21st until 1:30pm Nov 22nd. She was taken by ambulance to the NY Presbyterian on Gold Street in New York City's Financial District from a hotel where she had spent two nights. The hospital subsequently released her at 4:00pm and she returned without any belongings or even the coat on her back or glasses on her face at 5:30pm. She was sedated until Nov 22nd 1:30pm and was told she was being taken to a psychiatric facility. Heavily sedated, she had absolutely no control over this decision. The first week there she had no glasses, though she made arrangements to receive contact lenses Nov 25th, they were received but held until November 30th."The facility was pleasant and even has a pool during the summer. Most all rooms were single instead of double it being quarantine, there were two large tvs and the food was good despite the constant rotation."23 days is longer than the typical stay and Heather was told they were extending her stay due to the extenuating circumstances of her arrival at the Gold Street location. It's all a mystery. A day disappeared cost 23 days of her life. This is the background of the writing. At least something has come of the stay. H.R.H. works as an artist @hrh.nyc in Brooklyn, where she enjoys the company of her betta fish Mojo, an abundance of plantlife, and the sparrows and doves that come to her fire escape. She has been writing poetry since she spoke her first words, "Look my new blue shoes!" She was a slam poet in the New York scene circa 1999-2001. This is the first assembled and polished novel that she has published solo. She has one additional book on Amazon, a translation of The Book of the Law. She hopes everyone can see the hope in these words amidst the struggles with time, family and love. Additionally, H.R.H. is the Principal Broker at Realestatic, a Commercial Real Estate Firm in Williamsburg Brooklyn. You may also know her as an artist, having had solo abstract art shows at Space 776 and at a coworking space in Brooklyn. Maybe you went to one of her gallery events at Club 157 circa 2016-17, or her involvement in Northern Brooklyn, the Manhattan Chamber of Commerce, Brooklyn Chamber of Commerce or Greenpoint Chamber of Commerce. Over the years she boasts membership in a wide variety of societies and associations. She is a graduate of the Zicklin School of Business of Baruch in Entrepreneurial Management with minors in Corporate Social Responsibility, Information Technology and Advanced Business Analysis. Heather graduated Baruch in 2016. She has previously been a student at Fordham University, Scranton University, Keystone University, The Ivy Institute and The New York Real Estate Institute. She maintains both a real estate broker license and insurance broker license. In her free time she is working on her own concept of the perfectly functioning urban environment."Publishing my work is an exercise in visibility. May we all be visible and see others. May this be the start of something wonderful."