The thing that most people forget (and I happened to forget too) is that as human beings, we need to be outside. Even if it’s just walking from your house to your car and your car to your job, you’re still outside. In my time at the hospital, I did not go outside. I’m sure it was offered at some point, but I was tired. So I preferred to stay inside and read, in that little white brick room they put you into. The day they released me the thing I remember the most is the sun.
I don’t remember my friends, although it was nice for them to pick me up. I remember the heat on my skin. The warmth, as it smoothed my oversized tee shirt. The rays of light that caressed my stringy hair. In the car ride back, my friend in the passenger seat rolled her window down. And I shuddered at the sensation, like fingers moving across my body. I was overwhelmed. I had lots of mixed feelings after being dropped off at my dorm and realizing that it was my choice now. I could go outside anytime I wanted. My stomach clinched at the prospect. Had I really been living my life this way up until this point? How had I never noticed how strange it was to be outside? This responsibility weighed on me heavily.
Freedom is only apparent to those who’ve had theirs taken away.