Confined in a sort of fortress, with no one to turn to, my memories and paranoia lead me to God. The words spilled on paper, as I count the days and prayed. The forced medication gave me short term memory loss, and I faltered when they've informed me that I might not be able to go home at all. Until I'd forgotten where is Home. And I'd forsaken the difference between wrong and right. Many times I ran away and followed the music of my heart.

Their loud noise gave me inspiration and drove me back to reality during times when I seem to float into dividing dimensions. I'd fallen in love, thinking and remembering that maybe it was just infatuation. Until I began to question what love is. Why does it hurt? Why does it dig deep within me? Why do I sacrifice a lot for it? Why does my happiness depend on him? And then the memories were dancing with the present.

There were moments I had premonitions of the future. And creatures chanted about auras and warnings of humanity. I barely made it through unscathed.

I am a schizophrenic. My companions have given up. They're already in the afterlife. I don't want to follow. Not unless it is my time.

Welcome to the world inside my mind.