Zainab.K - My Disney Daze

"If you can dream it. You can do it" – Walt Disney

White Lines ~ Short Story

March 3, 1941

White lines.

White lines, I repeat to myself.

These molding walls and sickly green are all that I could manage to handle. Deep cracks that puncture into the walls and silver streaks of thread bundled like left from an old hag. One window was open to retain my oxygen; how generous of them. Though anytime I would turn to the sun touching on my rusting floorboards, I couldn’t help but feel my own freedom was taunting me. It called out my name several times, that sometimes I get lost in myself just thinking about the joy of it. When I feel though that my sanity is out of reach, I try to turn my shoulder, trying to pay no mind. I really do, but it hung to me like a lingering shadow as if someone were to take a step into the light. The redwood crosses, chipped almost as if skin was peeling off, didn’t help either. My faith was being thrown back and forth, and nearly as I felt I was scared of Him, I felt severe disappointment as well. Was it His choice to bring me here? For me to be alone, depressed, and uncared for? This man made prison would make any “normal” being crazy.

The attendants were basic lunatics. When they would ask a simple “How are you?” or with the occasional “Have you taken your medicine?”, they would never understand what I would say. And I knew this. Their fake smiles and vigorous nodding was to make it look what anything I said was unbelievable.

It was their job to keep sustenance and order, and at first I began to trust these people. I trusted them, enough that the moon at a night’s work would depend on the sun to awaken the Earth. But blinded by their acts of “kindness”, I opened my eyes to white masks and small metals making my face go numb. It was all in their routine and trickery. To modify, to cleanse, or to keep reports; the only heaviness I felt was when the needles made its way two inches in my flesh.  I soon recognized that I was no more than an experiment. A helpless animal that is forcefully being injected to take this overdose of liquid, all in the means to certify a company’s huge brand deal. And just like an animal, I didn’t have a voice. Instead, an inharmonious sound seemed to slip through my voice pipes that caused them to push even further.

Now, a belt buckle has been fastened from my arms to my lower hip. The only enjoyment I could seek was watching television, mainly my favorite movie Pinnochio. No matter how many times I might re run it, I always feel my inner child spiriting through. My favorite part and always has been the ending, when Pinnochio has become a human boy. Could you find me crazy if I find envy in a puppet? As hard the lessons Pinnochio had to learn, he fulfilled a dream he wanted. See, after what I endured, I haven’t seen one sight of my life leading anywhere. My patience has been running out and I don’t think I can feel anymore. The pleasure of colors are what I want to see, not this white floor, white ragged clothing, white paint, or white lines. I want to see hope again, and my hope to live again.  

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