White Walls

My parents have come to the decision that an institution is best for me. Personally, I don't think they could deal with me anymore. Their friends started asking questions, they complained about me even more, and maybe worst of all they didn't even ask for my opinion on whether or not I felt being in an institution would be best for me (Pfeiffer, 127).
I have no idea when or even if I will ever leave the institution. Since being here, I have learned to hate it. However, I can see why my parents were getting so irritated with me because I am getting irritated with the people around me. The doctors and employees here think I can't do anything for myself and think that I need constant supervision. What do they think I'm going to do? Run? The doors are locked! The only time I am allowed outside is in an enclosed area surrounded by other people whose intentions I do not know. The people here--many of them do not speak to me, but that is okay because I do not wish to speak to them either ("Schizophrenia." Mental Health America.). I can feel their eyes on me at all times, I can hear their whispers behind my back...The sounds echo, the voices carry, and the constant feeling of someone holding my arm makes me feel like I am in prison, like there is no escape, like these white walls are closing in on me...
My parents have only been to visit me a number of times (less than I can count on one hand). They seem happier without me, and I feel like they were planning all along to dump me here and be rid of me for good.
But maybe that's a good thing.