When I inadvertently put myself away

At first I purposefully put myself away. I hid from the mined that chased me with the voices that unanimously shouted inadequacy. I cornered myself to seek shelter from the walls that could guard me from the noise inside my head. I disguised my mania as the exhaustive ecstasy that came in the form of reckless drives down city streets. Sharp turns around the borough, but sharp cuts through my flesh thereafter. Soft layers of my stomach severed with the satisfaction of complying with their commands. Serenity. Then I put myself away. Again. This time in the hands of the ones covered in all white. I brought my war; they brought their peace. Their peace came in the form of more walls. Their walls were the good walls they said, they sheltered me between four, not just two as I had before. Theirs came with more isolation, theirs confined me to 4 cubic meters. Out here I had the world. In there…the world was only what was let of it in my head. In there I lost myself: my choices were made for me. What I ate, when I ate, where I slept, where I walked. I singlehandedly retracted the privileges I once gave myself. Only to reclaim once I can prove that I can swallow my compressed, white decision maker.