I don’t even know how long it was until I awoke, still laying in here staring up at the blinding light. Surely it had been days by now? The silence was deafening. No matter how much I yell no one comes, I yelled until my voice was no more and still, no one came.
I spent so long trying to remember at least something, where I lived, what I did or hell, even my name. I remember waking up and my eyes feel like they were burning from this light but beyond that, nothing. Had I hit my head? Was I in an accident? If I was, why would I be in an insane asylum? I don’t feel insane… Although I’ve lost my memory, for all I know I could be a serial killer.
Laying on this comfortable floor is the only thing I’ve been doing for so long, my arms have gone numb from being strapped to my own body. I did find out that I was indeed a white person, I found that out when I spent an hour pulling off the extremely tight socks they had put on me with my teeth, at least it passed some time.
Yesterday I heard someone else screaming, it took me awhile to figure out that it wasn’t just an echo of my own voice, they too were screaming for help, they too were screaming asking where the hell they were. I tried to communicate with him but it was no good, my voice had already faded away.
I opened my eyes and all I could see was a blinding white light, it had been so long since I had seen a light so strong, my eyes were having a hard time adjusting. Where had I been? Where was I now? I was so tired I fought to keep my eyes open, but I had to, they had to adjust to this blinding light. Almost burning my retina’s.
I tried to stand up but I couldn’t move my arms, it was as if they were amputated, had my arms been amputated? What the hell was going on? I didn’t have stumps so they couldn’t have been amputated but then why couldn’t I move them? I can’t even move my fingers… WHATS GOING ON?!
I get to my feet, but I can’t see where I’m going, the light is still too bright to see anything. Wherever I am it’s not a very big room, I yell out, I yell “hello” but I get no response, who was keeping me here, why were they keeping me here? Have I died? As I get more worried, more claustrophobic I begin to breath heavily, I try to walk forward but I bump my head on the wall. It didn’t hurt though? What was that? It was cushioned? Why was it cushioned? I rest my head on the wall then walk sideways, using my head as a guide. It wasn’t long until I reached another corner, that too had a cushioned wall.
The fear was starting to get replaced with anger, I started booting the wall as hard as I could, hoping to break through whatever was in front of me. The final kick makes me lose my balance and I fall backwards, my head hits hard against the floor, but again, the floor was cushioned! The only thing I could see again now was the bright light shining down on me.
“And here in the shadows I stand, hidden from you, hidden from the world… hidden from everything! You think I was gone forever didn’t you? You always thought you were better than me, walking past me as if I never existed! Every day I tried to gain your affection, your love and everything I did you just threw it back in my face! Well never again! If I can’t have you, then no one will! If you don’t know I’m here now then you will never know when to expect me! I stand here, in the shadows, watching you touch yourself; dirty little whore!”
The light switches on and the shadows disappear.
“What are you doing Jeffrey, you stupid boy?!” A woman’s voice yelled.
I spun quickly and glanced at my mother.
“Stop standing in the dark talking in that sinister voice! Especially at this time! Do you realize how late it is? Me and your dad are trying to bloody sleep in ‘ere! And stop perving over the cat, she doesn’t like it.”
In an entire week, I’d lost everything. I lost my fiance, my job, my house, my friends. No fault of my own you understand; it’s just some people are destined for greatness while others are destined to just exist and die unnoticed.
I looked back at my family history and all I feel is disappointment. Not at them but at myself, some people in my family were bonafied heroes. They’d saved lives, the best thing I had ever done was not beat some drunk so badly that he’d spend a month in hospital. I showed mercy.
But in the end where did it get me? Did it divert my path of failure? No, it didn’t. I’m just the guy that can’t hold down a job, can’t hold down a relationship. Then to really rub it in I have to hear about how great my friends’ lives are, how great their job is, how hot their woman is, sick of it.
Broken and defeated I took whatever pills I could find, at the start it was strong painkillers, they did the trick of putting me to sleep quickly. Then when they’d ran out I used up the mild painkillers, then the headache tablets.
How I long to feel the warm breeze touch my skin, however that’s not going to happen anytime soon. “Why?” you may ask yourself, and you’d be a fool not to. Am I some sort of prisoner? No, I’m just a resident of England.
Some would say that’s the same damn thing. I’ll admit, at times I agree. I am a prisoner of my own solitude that’s for sure; another week at work which I consider to be an absolute joke goes by. It does pass quickly but the weekend passes even quicker.
For some reason I wish the time away but then I think, what is it I’m wishing time away for in the first place? There’s nothing to look forward to, only the same mundane routine. My so called friends must have kept themselves out of trouble this week as I have heard nothing from them. Typical.
It’s days like this when the only thing I do is lounge around the house and wait to go back to work on Monday. That’s why I have decided to catch some fresh air.
I am broken.
There is no better way to describe me than that. I sometimes sit outside the local school and watch the little children play in the playground, laughing, running around, pulling hair, falling over and crying. I watch them not because I am some sort of weird paedophile but because I envy them.
I envy them because they are at the age of not knowing what stress is. They don’t know worry, they have no concept of depression. I sit there and I watch their innocent faces and while I envy them, I sometimes can’t help but pity them. The things I have been through not just physically but mentally; I wouldn’t wish on anyone. At the moment the only thing they have to worry about is the amount of homework they are given. I remember at that age I used to fear detention. Having to sit quietly in a class room for 30 minutes as punishment? At this point in my life I would love nothing more than 30 minutes of quiet.
I watch these children and they have a whole life ahead of them. They will be around long after I am dead, they will have their own lives, wives, husbands, heart-break, mishaps. These children have at least 14 years before life even really begins. Some will be able to handle it, some won’t.
And I stand there, looking at you from a distance; enjoying yourself, enjoying your life.
I like seeing you happy, I really do but at the same time I’m filled with rage because I’m not the person you’re enjoying your life with.
We’ve been friends for a long time; since children in fact and I am honoured that I am your person you talk to whenever you’re having troubles in your life. I sit there like I care and act like I am listening. Hanging on your every word.
You tell me about the boy troubles you have, each time you have an argument and you send me a text message first informing me and looking for reassurance. I give it to you willingly because you are beautiful. I tell you each time that you deserve better and that nothing he does reflects badly on you as a person.
I tell you what a great guy you’re with while at the same time telling you how much of an absolute prick he is.