I’m trapped, and I can’t leave.
I’m a prisoner within my own body. I don’t know how they did it. I don’t even know who ‘they’ is. It started with memory blackouts, forgetting what I did the other day. I scheduled a doctor’s appointment, but then I blacked out and slept throughout the whole day. It was then I started wondering whether I was actually sleeping, or doing something else. It sounded silly, I know. That’s why I sought out a close friend of mine, just to vent about what was happening, air out my stupid theories and illogical worries…
…only to realize that I couldn’t. Every time I tried to say something about the recent blackouts, I’d kind of…fade away. In the middle of the damn conversation. I’d tune back in in the middle of a topic, unrelated to what we were talking about before. I asked at first why we were talking about what we were talking about, only to get a weird look. Told that I brought it up in the first place. Then I’d open my mouth to say something about the blackouts again, and then I’d… …fade.
I faded for the last time during that conversation, and the next time I woke up, I was in a hotel room. I didn’t know what was going on. I realized by now that it was more than just blackouts, more than just sleeping and waking up and zoning out. I tried to get up, I tried to get out of the hotel room, but I couldn’t. My legs felt glued to the floor. I sat on the bed for what felt like hours, perfectly still, while screaming and blowing up on the inside. I heard the door open, and then a voice. And then I blacked out again.
I know that this wasn’t supposed to happen. Well, obviously, people generally aren’t supposed to have their bodies frozen, actions paused, suspended only to be reactivated at a whim. But I meant specifically, me specifically. I don’t think I was supposed to still have my mind, when whatever happened to me happened. I don’t think I was still supposed to have a will.
I’m in an empty room now, staring at the wall. I hear a voice behind me, but I’m not allowed to really hear it. I just know what it’s telling me. It says sorry for doing this. I try to scream with all my might at them, and all that happens is a twitch of my lips. Someone puts a mirror in front of me. My features are smooth. You can’t even tell I’m boiling with rage. And then suddenly, I feel light. My fury is gone, my anger dissipated. It was something the voice said. It said it was sorry, again. Sorry that it didn’t work the first time, sorry that I had to go through this with my will still intact. And that they’d fix it for me.
My outrage turned into fear. What would I be without my will? Without…me? I was a prisoner inside of my own body now, but without my will I’d just be…a body.
It was my will, my consciousness, in the first place, that was the source of so much negativity, of so much pain in the past few days.
If I didn’t have my will, I wouldn’t be angry, either.
The mirror smiles at me.
No. No, no, no. It’s not my will’s fault. It’s not. It isn’t me. It’s whoever is fucking controlling me, my every action, whoever is smiling at me that’s at fault.
But I’m smiling at me.
It looks so genuine. My reflection looks honestly happy. But I know it’s no– I’m not. I know I’m not. I’m angry. I’m so upset.
…But it looks so happy. And I’m not. Why aren’t I happy? The mirror could be happy. That other me could be happy. Which other me? The reflection? Or just the body?
If I got rid of my will, if I got rid of my self, I’d just be a body. I’d be that body. The happy one.
Why didn’t I see it earlier?
I’d be able to be happy, if I just…let myself be.
Okay. I’m okay with that. I would like being happy. That makes a lot more sense than being angry.
I smile back at the mirror.
I’m trapped, and I never want to leave.
I’m just so happy.
This is nice.