I stand on the hard, black dirt, 

watching the thick fog swirl around me. 

I hear the voices of my family and friends, 

the meows of my grandma’s cat, long since dead, 

and the barks of the dogs, most of which have passed on. 

I watch the memories unfold,

seeing faces, some of which I haven’t seen in years. 

I smile and laugh at some, 

cry watching some, 

and remember all the scenes that I see. 

I move to touch the face of my best friend,

whom I haven’t seen in a while. 

The memory dissolves, leaving me to grasp

a handful of fog. 

“Let me see her again! Let me see them all again!”

I cry, wanting to rewatch them all. 

Instead, bad memories float in. 

Kids laugh at me when I trip and go flying.

My parents yell at me. 

The screaming and yelling get louder and louder

and louder and louder

unti I can’t take it anymore. 

“Make it stop! Please, make it stop!” 

I yell, clapping my hands over my ears. 

The noise and the pain of the memories makes 

my head hurt, tearing me apart and making me 

feel sick. 

Then come the memories I made. 

The daydreams I had and continue to add on to. 

The stories I wrote and are still writing. 

I watch some, mesmerized. 

I cringe at some, wishing I hadn’t had those strange

and absurd fantasies. 

They are a relief from the agony of 

having to watch those horrible memories. 

Then they all fade away, 

leaving me to wander through the fog, alone. 

I come to the large steel gate that prevents me from 

leaving my asylum, pulling on the bars

 like I always do 

I am trapped. 

A prisoner in my own mind.