The bricks are my security
The coffee machine is my false god
The laptop is my muse
The dress is my armor
The apartment is my heaven
The city streets are my cheerleaders
The hair dye is my holy water
The secluded village is my hell
The group home is my cell
The workers are my demons
The fantasies are my fantasies
The comparisons are invalid
The apartment is invalid
My dreams are invalid
My feelings are invalid
The social workers are good.
Better to be here than with a life.

Help me.

The doctor is good. The doctor is powerful. You must believe everything you tell him. He loves you. He knows that you, and you alone, are hurting. He'll be donating money. He'll be working with your burden. He'll be keeping it dumb. The doctor, as well as you, don't like gun violence and 20 kids dead. No, the doctor knows how to keep you burden crippled and lame. Simply put, it will obey and be rewarded for when it obeys.