I walk through the dark, dim halls searching for something, anything to direct me towards the exit of the building I have become way too familiar with. As soon as I turn the corner, I see the luminous red sign I have been searching what seems like days for. Right below the sign stands a door, as soon as I try to open it an alarm sounds off. “Crap” I say to myself quietly. The guards start running towards me, as if wanting to go outside is a crime or something. I stand there, accepting the fact that I no longer will be able to eat dinner with my friends tonight.

Years ago when I was first dropped off at this wonderful place, I learned that things don’t work like they did when I lived on my own. My family doesn’t come to visit me, I can’t watch television whenever I please, and I can’t go outside at the most beautiful time of the day. Here I am, a grown woman, and I can’t even make my own decisions the majority of the time.

“Hey baby, it’s time to take your medicine.” My favorite nurse sings to me. Her name’s Christina, she’s the only person in this God forsaken building that understands me. She’s also the only person I’ve interacted with in years, I refuse to see any other nurse. “Christina tell Max I’m going outside for the sunset tonight, I’m tired of being stuck in here when I could be seeing the beautiful colors mother nature creates.” My voice is shaky with a slight tint of hope. “Baby you know I can’t let you do that, but I’ll see what I can do.” This meant no.

Christina is a young girl, she probably hasn’t even reached 27 yet. I remember those years like they were yesterday. Of course, I probably remember them because I wish they were yesterday. Christina, despite working in such a bleak place, always seems to make the people, and the days, a lot brighter. She comes into my room daily, always with a hop in her step. I look up to Christina, both literally and figuratively. She’s the only strand of hope I have left in my body. That nurse is the main reason I have not taken myself out of this place yet.

The past few days in here have been excruciating. Our meals have consisted of the same things: mashed potatoes, chicken, and green beans. I need diversity before I start to go crazy. No wonder everyone in here ends up staying for good, this place brainwashes us into being boring. When our families visit, they no longer want us because we seem fine here, but really I know we’re all dying to get out. All though, none of us ever make the initiative to ask our families to take us home. We’re too old and too much of a responsibility. It’s not their fault they had to put us in a retirement home, even if we don’t belong here.