Lost

Chapter 1

Lost.

So lost.

That’s how I feel right now.

My mind is a dark and dangerous place.

Images just flash by, but only for a second.

And I just feel something behind me but when I turn around,…there’s nothing.

I can’t find my thoughts in my own head.  I can never find my thoughts.  I look, I really do, but I never seem to find what I’m looking for. My biggest problem is that I don’t even know what I’m looking for most of the time.

My mind is such a maze; a dark, dangerous maze. And unlike any other normal maze, there is no exit. I would know, I’ve been searching for the exit my entire life. But never have I ever found it. Sometimes though, I think I found it, and I run towards the possible exit, but I find that the more I run towards it, the further away is stretches, never to be reached. The only thing close enough to an exit is this glass room in my maze. I can see and hear the outside world through it. Sometimes, if im lucky, there is a small microphone in the room. Some days it’s there, sometimes it’s not; but when it is, I can talk through it and communicate with the outside world. When it’s not there, I can’t say anything.My whole maze is dark. There is never any light; nothing to guide me through it.

There are rooms in my maze. As strange as it sounds. Each room seems to hold different categories thought.

I’m always so alone, no one to help me sort, or even find my thoughts. Although sometimes I see a dark shadow that seems to run by, but it’s always so fast. I’ve tried to look closer to it when it’s there, but I can never see it properly.

My view on the world isn’t much better.  People don’t like me very much; because of the way my mind works. (or rather how it doesn’t work) When they try to communicate with me, I can’t find what to say. I run through the maze in my mind, desperately searching for the right room. Because each room holds different thoughts. Like one of them is for my feelings, while another is for my knowledge. There are many others, but I can’t remember them.  So when someone talks to me, I’m always too slow. When I finally find the answer, when I return to the room, they are gone, or worse, the microphone isn’t there at all.

My mind is such a scary place. Sometimes, I wish I could just escape, even if it’s only for a day. I want so desperately to be able to just talk to someone.

I haven’t uttered a word to anyone in about 3 years.

All of this is because of him. It’s his entire fault I can’t speak or form proper thoughts.

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I walk down the street, hands in my pockets and wind blowing on my smooth chocolate hair. As I head towards the hospital I think of whom it was that I was going to look after. You see I volunteer to help in hospitals often.  Mental hospitals, that is. So here I am making my way to the St. Daisy's Mental Institution, ready to take care of some poor girl and make her get over their ‘sickness’ as people called it. I’m used to helping out girls, because I am one, but it’s always been kids of younger than 10. I’m 18 and I’m good with kids, so that’s why I’ve always worked with kids.

I finally make it to the Institution and walk up the steps, nervous as usual before meeting the new kid. As I make my way over to the front desk, a nice looking old lady turns around.

“Yes dear, how may I help you?”

“Hello, my name is Reese and I’m here to take care of a child?” I say almost questioningly.

“Oh, yes we’ve been expecting you! Here come this way.” She says as she gets up, signaling for another nurse to take over the desk.

“So you’ve taken care of people before?” she asks, making conversation as she leads me down the hallways that smell of disinfectant.