Welcome to the land of lost souls, the walking dead. Where the blinding hallways that stink with the stench of the barely alive stretch miles behind your eyes.

Where the demons decked in white feed you medicine, lies, and feigned sympathy. Where the only voice I hear is the one in the back of my mind, the voice that drips with contempt and tears me to shreds with every insult whispered into my ears.

The voice that’s ever-present.

The voice that’s always there.

Day after day I wait. For someone to save me, for someone to care. And day after day, night after night alone in my bed, no one comes.

Because the only thing that keeps me company is the voice that screams filth in the back of my head.

Perhaps if I’m lucky, the doctors will kill me before my insanity does.

Everyday I wait to be saved. I wait for someone to find me, for someone to tell me it’s alright.

I wait for someone I know will never come.

I am nothing.

I am worthless.

I am forgotten.

I am Choi Minho.

This is my story.