I keep my right hand on the wall.

Follow the wall and you will find the way out.

That's the theory, is it not?

But which hand is my right? And which is my left?

Where am I?

Questions buzz around my head. My head? Is that not what I am inside right now?

Only one thing is clear.

Me.

But who am I?

Stuck inside myself, I am not defined by people. Stuck inside myself, I am not defined by my surroundings.

I try to pull myself together. The irony. Pulling myself together to pull myself together. 

It's quiet inside my head. It's so darn quiet that I'm losing my mind.

THE FUCKING IRONY. 

The fucking irony. 

My right (at least I think it is) hand trails off the wall.

I look straight ahead of me.

I see the center.

Oh how happy I am.

I have found a way back.

Right where I started

Realization settled in.

There's no way out

except for

Getting lost inside my own mind