As I lay on my back, staring up at the white ceiling, I can't help but feel trapped.
I attempt to focus on the simple patterns above me like I always do whenever I need to distract myself. It doesn't help much, but it's still worth a try.
It's cold today. And whenever the temperature drops, this place reminds me of a prison. But isn't this a prison itself? It is a prison for the mentally unstable. It's a prison for people like me.
A thump on the door pulls me out of my miserable thoughts. It's time to wake up. Sometimes I wonder if the nurse ever gets tired of knocking on the door of each bedroom every morning.