The room was dark, I was alone, no windows, no light, searching for a way out. Trapped, I sat there, I could hear those on the outside, talking about me, questioning my character. I felt myself changing, more withdrawn, possibly it was because there was no one else to talk too, although I really hated the person I had become, the person that I wanted to be, the person who I thought I was, yet today, I am unsure of my own identity.
The dark room was cold, damp, wearing down every part of my being. Wondering if I would ever see the light of day again. I would sit in the corner, knees to my chest, waiting and hoping that someone would open the door. Many times as I would get near the door, I would see the light coming through the bottom, shadows of footsteps, then as I touch the handle, the voices would soften so that I couldn't hear. I would slowly withdraw my hand and find my corner of the room.
Many thoughts crossed my mind during that time, many of those thoughts circulated around me, hating the very person that I was, feeling as if I was the sole person to blame, even though I knew I wasn't, I came to believe that I alone was a monster. A monster that had to be caged and controlled, locked away and hidden away. Much like a prisoner, hoping that I would be reformed by the time I would re-enter society.
My room or cell has changed me, more than I could ever imagine. I want so badly to be the person that I thought I was, however, if I don't control my desires and obsessions, I will become that monster again. I slowly begin to turn the handle of the door, placing sunglasses over my eyes, preparing myself. The light begins to shine through the crack, squinting...I finally opened the door.
