White walls. White floors. White ceilings. White doors. White bed. White bed sheets. White shirts. White pants. White socks. White shoes. All of this turned my already blank mind even more blank. My life turned into white blankness. Screams. Yells. Loud footsteps. Sounds as though someone is running into a wall, trying to break it and escape from all the whiteness. I see no point keeping me here. I won't get better here. I felt better at home. With colors. It's not my fault they started following me. It's not my fault I am not against it. I miss them. I want to see my mother. My dad. My brother. But they say they are gone. I don't agree. They are there.
They just don't see them. They say if I stay here I will get better.
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