Status Updates From Çocukluğun Soğuk Geceleri

On Sundays…these days…if I am strolling down an alley…and catch sight of a father in pyjamas…or if, on a grey and raining winter day, I see smoke rising from a stovepipe…and windows fogged with steam…if I look in to see laundry hanging up to dry…if the clouds are almost low enough to touch the damp bricks…(..)…if I hear live football matches blaring from every radio…all I want is to go, go, go, and keep going.

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I know I am never going back inside. Never again shall I suffer such misery. I must resist. It’s not the shock treatment that cures me. And not the medications. What cures me is the deep dark terror at the prospect of ever again being locked up in one of these clinics.