It's been three years. I laughed darkly in my hospital room. I wouldn't have imagined that in the course of three years, I would go from a happy-go-lucky freshman in college to a girl who can't even look at her parents. It was 3:00AM exactly but I was not going to go to sleep any time soon. Over the course of the years, I've become more or less nocturnal. I was leaning on the headboard of the hospital bed and I looked out the window at the moon. I remembered when I was first admitted, how I screamed with fear, anger, and frustration. I hoped for the next couple of months, the hope of being let out and feel the sun on my face and the wind through my hair again. That was a mistake I will never make again. It became evident when my condition got worse that I was never going to be let out. If I somehow was able to recover, I wouldn't be the same. No one came to visit me anymore. I stopped contacting everyone so they gave up on me. Everyone except for one person. The only one who I craved for because when he's here, the voices stop whispering. When he's here it doesn't feel like the world is targeting me and only me. When he's here, the thing they call schizophrenia that has begun to take over my life disappears.