A bright light comes into focus as I awake, and I swear I see it fly out the door, even if my vision is a little blurry and my mind hazy. I attempt to shift to my side and get a better grasp on my surroundings, but I am restrained. I can just lift my head and as I do, I realize where I am, and I wish I am wrong. I have been in a room just like this one twice before and both times I had some recollection as to events prior that would explain my environment. This time is different. All I can remember from last night is being pushed through a hospital on a gurney and the shot that was given to me that induces sleep so well.

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                 I struggle to hold back a tear as much as I reach back into my mind to find the reason why I am back here. Usually with a clear head I can see myself the previous day and the way I must have appeared to others. The first time I looked back at myself after I felt sane again, I saw sadness and despair. I had been lost in thought about how human life failed to mean a thing and after we die, lies a void without any consciousness. The ability to ponder about anything is what I love most and the idea of losing that power brought me to a dark place.

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                The second time I looked back at myself after regaining my sanity, I saw excitement and delusion. I cringe now at the thoughts I once had about life and what comes after death. I believed them without any doubt, and this promptly led me to where I am now after trying to get others to listen to my “strange theories” as my parents called them. The only person who even seemed remotely interested in my revelations was my sister.

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                I hear footsteps and, with my neck straining, I see my doctor walk in my new room. I wonder how long I will stay this time.

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               He pulls the chair from under the desk and places it next to my bed. Still standing, I get the feeling that something is off with him. Not that he should be thrilled that I am back here, however, he is distraught and looks disgusted at the sight of me.

“Good morning, Kate. How are you feeling?” his tone suggests that he does not care how I feel.

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              “My head feels clear now, but I don’t remember much about last night. I have been taking my medicine.” I reply with much confusion.

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              “I hope you can help me understand a few things about last night, Kate.” He seems to lighten up as he finally sits in a chair. “I have been told that you had a rough night and something unpleasant happened. I am not sure that I believe it as you never have done anything like it before, but the others and myself don’t care as to why at all. We would like to know how?”

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              Now I am really confused. “How what?”

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              My doctor poorly clarified, “How did you do it?”

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             “What did I do?!” I yell, sobbing.

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             As I cry, my doctor releases the straps that pinned me to the bed. He exits the room and leaves me to my thoughts.

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                                                                 ~

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             The door to my room sweeps open quickly and I keep still, anticipating it, as Nurse Jones makes her rounds at the same time every night. “Time for bed, Kate,” she announces. “Let’s try to get some sleep tonight.”

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              I give a slight nod, my gaze fixed out the window as I continue to sit on the ledge to stare at the city lights. She closes the door quietly and continues down the hall to the other rooms. I start to feel tired, but the view from the eleventh floor of this building at night is soothing to my mind. My mind. It has been giving me trouble recently—the cause of my body being trapped in this place.

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              Several days have gone by since I have been admitted. And ever since that memory returned to me, sleep escapes me. Mostly out of fear that my mind will recreate the images that I have seen, but also because I fear that I may lose control of my body. If the memory I have is real, then I am a monster. If the memory is false, then my mind is betraying me.

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                Am I insane? My current home certainly suggests it, but I have been here before. I have been manic before and I have been depressed before. Understandable from a girl diagnosed with bi-polar disorder, but is this something else?

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                I stop thinking about the possibility of being crazy; the doctors tell me that a crazy person doesn’t question their sanity. I turn to look at my roommate, who’s fast asleep in her bed already. Carol always slept. She is probably trying to make her time here go by faster. She doesn’t appear to be a nut, so I don’t think that is why she is in this place. I leap off the windowsill and get into bed.  Exhaustion is setting in. I can’t run away from sleep any longer. I close my eyes and my mind thanks me as I fall into a deep sleep.