I sat on my cot waiting for dinner. Staring at the cold, cement cracked floor. The stains from past residents and myself caked the floor at the way to the wall. I looked at my feet covered with dust and dirt and frowned. I barely remember the warm feel of the Florida sand beneath my feet and between my toes. I came back to reality as I looked around the florescent lit room. Small, cozy, and only containing a cot, a person was truly only left with their thoughts. I've only been here six years with a life to go it seems. This was my life in an asylum.