It was 1876 when I was put in this place. They think im crazy. Right now I look around me and all I see is soft yellowish white colored fabric bordering every wall, enclosing me in this space. I have no family now. I did until the doctor said I had a problem. They called it schizophrenia. I don’t know what that means. A girl comes in my doorway every once and awhile, although im not sure why all she does is stand there. I want to ask her some questions but no one ever talks to me. I walk around in this white thing that keeps my arms from moving. They talk to me like I don’t know whats going on, but I do, I promise. When its time for me to get out of this padded room I will go back to this little square filled with nothing but a bed, chair, and puzzles. Not very much to keep me busy let alone the people in my head. They always scream at me. I feel like the walls will enclose on me. This little room has so many stories to tell and this is just one.