• Four white walls; that are what I see every day. Four white walls, one with a large window to the outside world concealed by a white curtain, one with a window and a door to the room beyond mine, and two to keep everything out. Four white walls, every day I know they’re always there, to keep the world away from me. A white ceiling stares down on me; I wish I could be in the sunlight instead of these lights that keep my mind from leaving the room.
    Every day, I hear voices enter and exit my presence. Heavy hearts, I feel their hearts weighing in doubt. Sad voices, they know why I’m here, but they can’t do anything. They want to know the reasons for my being. They want to know everything, but they don’t want to know everything, too. Minds and hearts, wants and unwants, voices and silence; these fill my days. My days…within these four white walls.
    A hand, warm and longing for mine takes me, hard to image it’s smaller than mine. Her voice is soft and sad; she speaks about the outside world and how it’s changed; about the trees changing colors, humans seeking warmth in their oversized clothes, schools leaving for their break. The world has changed without me, and unwillingly dragged her along with it. Tears, I feel tears running down her face and onto mine; her heart breaks every time she sees me. I know that she loves me; I know that I’m hurting her. I wish I could hold my mother, like she once held me. Her hand leaves mine, her voice leaves the room; I am alone once more. Surrounded by these four white walls.
    I long for some color in this room, some sunlight upon my face, a breath of fresh air in my lungs, but I remain here within this compound of four white walls. Darkness soon descends through the room beyond mine, yet the light in mine remain. Four white walls in a world now in darkness; yet, when the light in the room beyond mine returns, I will remain within these four unchanging white walls.
    The voices return, once more, to my presence; just as before they are sad and confused voices. What they are unable to learn more about my being here; perhaps that is best, perhaps that will save her the suffering of my being in the room surrounded by four white walls. And just as before, the voices retreat to the room beyond mine, trouble now more than ever.

    Every day I see her mother, and I know she wishes the same thing as I do. I see her talking to her child, I wish I could help her through this, but she doesn’t want me…she wants her child back.
    Four white walls, beeping machines, and doctors who can’t help her; this is how I see her every day. My heart breaks for her, to be in such a state; not here, but not gone. I wish I could take her place, but I was the unlucky one. I sit with her, holding her hand, hoping that she’ll wake up from this nightmare. One day together soon became our last.
    A new hand takes mine; his is larger than mother’s ever was. The warmth of it was no less equal to its size; his grip showed that he wants to be within the walls with me. Just like mother, he comes every day. He speaks to me in a kind voice, telling me all about the world outside; how lifeless it is without me to enjoy it. He speaks about school, how everyone misses me; how when I leave this place, they’ll all throw a party for me.