“This is Not My Home”

I do not remember how I got here. I ask every day, all day long, “How can I get out of here? I have to get my car and go home. I have things to do at home. This is not my home. They just put me here without asking me.”

I ask and ask. You tell me to go see Social Services or the doctor. I say I never see the doctor. How can I see him? I have to get out of here.

I ask everyone I see, “Can you help me get out of here or find my car?” They say I have to stay here one more night and we will help you tomorrow. But when is tomorrow? I say I would rather die than stay here for the rest of my life.

I guess I’m staying here forever.