I walked on the path, kicking the small rocks with my feet. Why does it have to be like this? I’m so young… I know I don’t really understand. But I’m also old enough to know just how young I am.

Ah well, it’s not as if it’s really that bad, being here, living here. Sure it’s different, so different. But at least I can walk around under the sun. Get away for a couple of hours. It’s all dry, weeds all around me, but at least the sky is blue.
At least I can stay outside, where I like it best. Walking in the company of the outdoors. It’s so much better than being inside, listening to their shouts in the next room.

At least I’m not trapped, locked up. Held inside, trapped by solid walls that give me no room to breath. At least I can be free.

Freedom, that’s what I’ll call this place. It’s my own personnal freedom. Sometimes it may feel fake, like an imitation, but maybe I’m just being picky. Maybe I should just take what I get. I do get a lot. I get my own personnal freedom, and I can’t ask for more.