Just look at her, in her white overalls, thinking she is an angel and acting like she is my saviour. Thinking about it just pisses me off. Every day, it’s always the same routine, wake up, dwell in my mind, try to escape this illusion, fail, and then go back to sleep.
Who is she to sign off on whether I am cured or not? What do you define as ‘cured’? How do you know whether a person is actually cured or not?
What if I am in the next stage after Homo sapiens, let’s call it a super sapiens. And because your homo sapiens mind is too primitive to understand that I have evolved to a level where you can’t comprehend, you get scared of me and keep me restrained.
She is meant to recognise me as a mini-god because I am evolution at its finest level. I am proof of what Darwin and co spent most of their lives working on. Yet, all your ancient can think of is to lock me up, when my brain and mind should be out there, exploring the world, connecting and talking to nature in a manner unbefitting of mere homo sapiens, and making this accursed world a better place.
But no, she wouldn’t let me go, no matter how many times I try to explain to her what exactly I am, she hears me speak, but she never listens. She’s always here, but she’s never here.
How tragic that th—
“Drake, do you want to share anything with us?”
“Hi everyone, I’m Drake, and I am a mental patient”
Barely a second had passed, but it felt like forever before he heard that all too familiar response.
“Hi, Drake”, The fellow mental patients in the circle chorused.