Anyway

Remembering now, after thirty years of antipsychotic medication and finally being well enough not to need it.How I stood in Sarah's mothers allotment at the age of twenty, I felt like a chemical presence, ridged and stiff, not well placed in nature, the grass, the earth, and the smells all felt alien to me, I hadn't been away from the city for two years. I didn't belong here, my skin felt like plastic melting under the sun, my brain like a metal trap aching under the strain of the spring that I had set for myself. My blood was like acid corsing through veins of fragile  glass, I yearned for some oil or lubrication to stop this pain. Surrounded by beauty, I was lost, painfully lost.