My Mind Is The Asylum

I've been trapped in this place for what feels like an eternity. The walls are a dull gray, the floors are cold and unforgiving, and the air is thick with the scent of despair. I've lost count of the days, the weeks, the months. Time has no meaning here. The halls are lined with doors, each one leading to a different cell, a different prisoner. I've seen some of them, heard their whispers and their screams. We're all trapped here, together, yet alone.

The guards patrol the halls, their footsteps echoing off the walls. They're always watching, always waiting. I've tried to escape before, but they're too strong, too vigilant. They always catch me, always drag me back. But it's not just the guards that keep me trapped. It's the voices in my head, the constant chatter of self-doubt and fear. "You're not good enough," they whisper. "You'll never make it." The voices are relentless, echoing off the walls of my mind.

And then there are the visitors. My family comes to see me, bearing gifts and false smiles. "Be a good girl," they say. But their words are laced with poison, weighing me down with expectations and responsibilities.

And then, there's the thought of returning to a different prison after getting out of this one. "Learn this, memorize that," the teachers there drone. But their words are hollow, devoid of meaning or passion. They're just trying to mold me into something I won't be.

Adolescence is a cruel joke, a never-ending cycle of confusion and uncertainty. My body is changing, my emotions are raw, and my mind is a jumbled mess. I'm lost, alone, and adrift.

But I won't give up. I won't stop trying. I have to escape, no matter what it takes.

I've been watching the guards, studying their routines. I know when they change shifts, when they take their breaks. I know the layout of the asylum, every door, every hallway. I've been waiting for the perfect moment to make my move. It comes on a Friday, after lunchtime. The guards are distracted, busy with returning us to our cells. I see my chance and I take it.

As he turns, forgetting to lock, I slip out of my cell, into the hallway. I move quickly, quietly, trying not to draw attention to myself. I make my way to the stairs, my heart pounding in my chest. As I climb, I hear the guards shouting behind me. They're closing in, but I won't stop. I keep moving, my feet pounding the stairs. I reach the top floor, the administrative offices. I know there's a door here, a door that leads outside. I've seen the guards use it, but I've never been able to get close.

I burst through the door, into the bright sunlight. I feel a rush of freedom, of exhilaration. I've made it, I've escaped.

But as I look around, I realize something's off. The buildings, the streets, they're all familiar. And then it hits me - I'm standing in front of my own house.

The asylum, it wasn't a physical place. It was my own mind, my own thoughts. I've been trapped in my own head, and I just escaped. I take a deep breath, feeling a sense of wonder, of awe. I'm free, and it's the weekend!