Trapped within the white walls...

She opened her eyes slowly. All she could see were those plain white walls. No decoration no personal touch no paintings hanging on the walls. Just the plain white walls. It's been the same white walls for the past 6 months that she woke up to. But there was a new addition to her room during the past month. A bedside table. It held a jug of water and a table lamp, few pens and her diary. The doctor had said it would help her if she wrote down what she felt, now that she has slowly started feeling things again. Before that it was just silence. It was just blank, like those plain white walls of the psych ward where she was admitted to. She slowly got up. After folding her blanket and making the bed she went to open the windows by the bedside table. The gardener was cutting the bushes in the garden. There were several patients and their caretakers here and there. One of them was having an animated conversation with her caretaker and kind caretaker was listening to her with a smile. There was another who was being pushed around in a wheel chair by his caretaker. And yet another, just sitting on the garden bench with their caretaker just staring off towards the horizon. Each might have their own stories, she thought. She has never interacted with any of them. Well it was not like she was here for a vacation. None of them were. They were all trapped within their own white walls. The walls they created around their own minds. That's the thing about the mind. it would just build a wall around itself when things are too much to bear, to protect itself from all the hurt. Until it's ready to accept everything. But most of the time, it needs help to bring down the wall, to learn to cope up... To learn to face the demons so that one can go on with their lives... She was here for the same purpose. To try and come out of the cocoon that she built to protect her mind. The cocoon which helped her numb everything till she is ready to face it. She looked away from the windows. Went and sat down on her chair near the study table. She took out her diary. It was blank. Nothing was written in it. She opened the first page and took a pen. 'What should I write?' She thought to herself. Well maybe she should start with her name on the front page. This would be the first step to facing everything. All her pain. To own it. To sit with it. To soothe it. To break out of her own minds prison. She wrote her name in the first page.

'Diya'...