The Care Facility, page 1
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ATS Members have flagged this thread 2 times
Topic started on 29-6-2009 @ 03:53 PM by SIEGE
It's a misnomer, they don't care.

They say they want to help me through this terrible depression, but they don't.

I've sat in this chair for three years, looking out of this same window. Looking down
on the sidewalk below, the sidewalk that brought me here in the cold rain. It leads
to the front entrance on the first floor of this care facility, but I've never been back
down there since the day I arrived, three years ago. I've just sat here in my chair,
waiting.
I never noticed how dirty the screen on the window is, until today. But I love that
screen so much. Because it is there, they allow me to keep the window open, and
when I keep the window open I can smell the clean fresh air blowing in, trying to
cleanse the medicinal clean air forced through the vents all around us. And there
are certain times when the rain penetrates the screen and lands on my face . . .
cold, and wet, and wonderfully exciting. Those are the times I escape.

It's raining today. I am watching the sidewalk below, to see if someone is finally
coming to claim me. No one knows who I am. I don't know who I am.
I don't know why I don't know who I am. But I feel deep down inside that I want
someone to find me. I am here waiting for you to find me. The staff says it will
happen sooner or later. I've sat in this chair for three years , in front of this
window . . . waiting.
I know I'm not crying, they say I haven't cried since I arrived three years ago. It
must be the rain coming in through my screen, landing on my cheeks.

If you get this message I'm broadcasting with my mind, please come to see me.

You may know me.

It's raining. And . . . I'm escaping.


reply posted on 30-6-2009 @ 04:47 PM by SIEGE
I put . . I put a message . . into . . what they call me . .

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