I have always loved dreams. In my dreams everything is either softly blurred like clouds or too intense and sharply defined, clean-cut like a reflection on a lake that hasn't been marred by pollution.
But now I am almost dependant on dreams. Now that I am locked away in this shining white cell, where there is never any sunlight, just fluorescent white lights that make my head ache with a permanent migraine. In my dreams there are no scars at my wrist, in my dreams I can look out of a window and not have to savour the rare oppurtunity, I can stare past an open pane of glass without two people in their lab-coats making sure that I don't just step into thin air like a cartoon character. Oh, to feel the fresh air on my skin, to breathe in air that isn't infused with chemicals.
Sometimes they tie me up in a jacket that pins my arms so closely to my sides that my whole body goes numb. Sometimes they put me in a darker room where it feels as if I am sinking into every surface.
They make me take medication, sometimes they inject me, they take me into yet another room and they try to make me say why I did the things I did. Sometimes they whisper about giving me 'the injection.' I think I know what they're talking about, I get injections all the time, so this one must be different, do something different, why be secretive about everyday life?