This Is Our Future.

I could still hear though. The man footsteps, his coughs, the teapot. I even felt the cold cloth he kept putting on my forehead. All I could guess what that I was ill. My eyes felt glued, and that if I was awake I wouldn’t even be able to open them. I felt like the dead, and I needed to eat, I could feel my body eating itself once again. I prayed to wakeup. And then, after I don’t know how long, maybe days, probably days, I could move again, but I still wasn’t able to open my eyes. When he saw me get up I could tell he was surprised because he told me to sit back down and wait. So I did, I sat and sat in the black of my eye lids. I heard the man moving around, but I didn’t know what he was doing. I asked, over and over again what was going on, and received not a word in return. It was boring just sitting there, and I felt sleep upon me again. I tried to tell him, but he hushed me and told me to be the quietest I could be. Sleep took me over, after all, there’s nothing to do in the dark. Then there was light. And I swear, if I was religious I would have thought it was Jesus. My eyes we open, and they burned. I tried to close them, but I couldn’t.

“Don’t close your eyes if you want to be able to see.” I listened and held my eyes open the best I could. The blinding light burned and my eyes felt as if they were on fire. My body shook with the intense pain my head was dealing with. And then I blacked out. From there all I remember was waking up and everything being tinted blue. It was odd and freaky. The man told me she had put something in me. He didn’t know what, but things were going to get worse. Not as bad as they would be if she was there. But I was going to have to pull through more pain and craziness. He told me the only reason I was insane was because of the things she put inside my body. The drugs and nasty things I shouldn’t have been given. He would take care of me and help me get better. I just needed the will to live. And I had it; the need to exist. For some reason, the man had given me hope that I could actually survive. He didn’t want to tell me the rest until I got better. He didn’t say why, I didn’t ask. I just stood and took the pain. The pain of feeling like the walls were closing in, that bugs were inside me, the intense lights or the temporary blindness. It was all there, plain as the day.

Everyday I was either asleep or almost dying. It had felt like I was almost dying. A few times I even asked the man to killed me. Just after one of my spells I got up and walked to a drawer, grabbing a knife I turned to him screaming for him to stab me to death. Begging for the blade to cut me open and let all of me spill onto the floor. Death stayed by my side, as did the man. It was absurd. Days passed, hours passes, so did minutes. Some were slow and other fast. But all the same eventually the pain ended. I woke one day with an acing and I felt better then I had in a long time. My head was clear, I didn’t want to rip myself apart. The craziness was gone as was the sickness that was in the pit of my stomach. I guessed the last time I puked let the last of the drugs out. Either that or they were done passing through my system. I was tired as hell. The man came in smiling at me.

“You don’t have to worry now, It’s over. All the horrors are over,” he said softly. I smiled as best I could and fell back asleep with hopes of being able to walk and eat and speak again. Whatever she had given me made every organ inside my body tired and weak. They hadn’t been working right. But it was okay now, ‘cause I was getting better. Nothing was gonna happen. I slept in black, a peaceful non-awaking, unfrightening, black. It was a comfort I enjoyed, and when I woke the smell of pancakes filled my once stuffy nose. I smiled and sat up. A great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I could breathe. The man stood at the stove cooking. I sat at the little table, the room looked the same as it did before the drugs started to destroy me. Once again, I felt okay.