Memory Awake (or The girl who fell out of heaven): Part 3

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand then pull out my earpods. Saint-Saens is silent now.

I have to get out of here. I don't belong here. There is no cocktail of medications, no amount of therapy with Doctor Phillips or meditation or prayer or passage of time that will mold me into someone who fits. I know what I know and I don’t want to unknow it. It is beauty and light and more lovely than anything I've ever known here.

Ellie is right. She, all of them, will take the pills, spout the proper words or phrases and leave, returning to the world beyond these walls where they will make an effort to soften their edges and make a life they can live with. Some will succeed. Some will wear out a path to these doors.

And some will slip softly into the mist.

It's early yet so I put on my flip flops and head for the garden. There are no guards, or bars or high walls or electic fences here. There is no need. We have no where to go, to be, that does not lead right back to bloodied wrists, stomach pumping, or nighttime oblivion resulting from self-medication or that ordered by the staff psychiatrists.

More importantly, we are miles away from anything that is not trees and rocks, grass and sky. A selling point: Quiet serenity to subdue a turbulent mind.

I walk into the forest as night begins to fall and the first stars peek between the leaves. I look up and smile. I can almost hear their music. Feel it's hum beneath my skin.

I walk into the darkness but I have not felt so light since before. I don’t look back. I do not need this place that cannot see or hear or understand my being.

I am going home.