I am free but it just doesn't feel real. I can go anywhere, heck go everywhere. But it just doesn't feel like I am there, or here, or anywhere. There is no one telling me what to do. No one paying me attention. No one saying you can make it. No one saying you can't go outside. I can just go outside. But it doesn't feel like I am outside. I am still there. In that place. Like I am waiting. Waiting to turn the page, waiting to see what is next. Yearning for my turn. But there are no more pages. No more. I can look out a window and see the sun, but there is no one there, no one here. I need someone to open my door, turn my page, start my story. I am alone. Waiting for my story to be written.

i just got out last week and crazily enough i miss art time with zach he was a lot of fun

i got out a little while ago, now every time I use an art pad I have flashbacks of my times in the brink. I wouldn't say my time their was traumatic, I came out a better person. but you stay anywhere long enough and you have some bad experiences.