Sometimes, when the world is tinged with orange vibrant colors, i wonder if it was all worth it. All the pain, all the meds, all the constant screaming in my head. I remember the tightness around my arms as the guards secured the rough strap-jacket onto my frame. I remember the wild fear in the patients eyes’ as they took them one after the other to the procedure’s room. Their faces, once filled with determination, now looked haggard and distraught.
I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy.
Constant vivid nightmares chase me nightly. Nightmares so real that i cannot seem to cut the thread between reality and dreams anymore.
“It’s the afteraffect of the procedure,” Dr. Dason said. “She’ll return to her senses in about six months.”
It’s been a year till now. A year of sympathy etched faces and concerned voices. The constant “Oh auburn! I’m so sorry.” sentences played through my head. A year of “I’m sure it’ll all work out in the end.”
Oh but i know the truth.
“Auburn, please talk to me. Say anything! Anything at all! Please.” My mother said exasperatedly. Her face is now hollow and dull. The effects of malnutrition and worry took their toll on her. Ofcourse, she’ll go back to the drugs.
Why speak when no one will listen to you anyway?
Although I’m behind closed doors, i hear everything. Constant arguements begining with “She’s ruined! Look at her jennifer! This is your fault!” No. Its all of your faults. and ending with Dr. Dason’s reassurance of making ‘it’ better.
See? After all of what you went through, you’re still just an object to them.
Before the procedure:
“You should take the procedure, it’ll make you feel way better than you are now.”
“Just take them off! You won’t need them anyway. Besides is’nt it better to just be normal?”
Oh but i am normal. We all are. It’s just that some of us are more unique than others.
I am not crazy. I am not an object.
They think they broke me. They think that they healed me of my curse, that i am ‘normal’ now. They think that i became what they wanted me to become.
They did not remove my darkness and my powerfulness. It’s still here brewing deep inside me, and it’s going to kill them all. One by one, like pebbles dropping down a cliff.
© Copyright by Aya Benotmane.