06.12.12 Page a day
Stale air. I stare at the grey wall. They have not come to feed me, I’m hungry. I exist as a ragdoll possessed by innate greed that is encompassing every sub-conscious motive. A black pit of dysphoria.
The chains are attached from the ceiling to my wrists; they hold my hands up to simulate Christ’s hands. I am so holy(!)
My thighs are clamped down to the concrete ground with metal braces. I can barely move a centimeter.
This state of uselessness descends me to states of madness, every few days, I scream and cry till I burst the capillaries in my eyes, struggle in my chains until I bleed from the thighs and hands. They leave me for what seems like hours like this, at my worst point I hit my head against the wall so much that they are terrified I will give myself a brain aneurism, sometimes I wish I did, a part of me thinks that death is the only luxury I have left.
At the moments that I begin to hurt my head, one of the doctors comes in with a sedative, and three big men are there to hold me down while he injects the needle into my arm.
They let me out into the institute’s gardens every week; I think it’s on a Sunday because I’ve often seen people holding bibles. I cannot enjoy the gardens.
Harsh light. I am so alone, my thoughts drown me, cover my face to stop me breathing this clean, fresh, current air. Every part of my being needs to become who I am already. I know how I can do this, but I can’t escape. I dance to this tired beat, this monotonous song that is so incongruous with nature.
A bee wisps along in the moment, I scowl and spit at it. The doctors have to put a chain around my neck; they don’t say a word to me. I love the flowers, and the smells, the feel of the grass between my toes, and at times I can actually exist in the moment. But years of imprisonment have leaded me to train my brain into being nothing but there and then.
Lobotomy please. I beg for repose, fall to my knees and give people primitive pleasure. Please cut my brain. While I do what they want they chain me up without a word. I beg for freedom.
The doctors always encourage me to try and control myself, but they fail to realize that they are controlling me in a way that I cannot break free. Why are they so stupid? Don’t they understand that with these chains I can’t run away?
I have sat here for what seems like forever. I am so hungry; I think that they have forgotten about me. I want to give up; can’t they just take my brain?
Not in my mind,
But in reality.
I exist paralyzed.
I am so afraid.