Mundane Fantasies and Memories

Once I found the strength in me to open my eyes, I saw the incision in my abdomen, it had been filled to the brim with different things of which I could only distinguish some more of the white crystal powder (maybe salt?) and some sort of green plant.

It felt itchy and very painful, I looked down at my arm and saw another IV, when I looked over at the bag there was some clear liquid dripping down into it, and for obvious reasons, I couldn't look at my neck but it was also itchy and it stung a bit.

Over time, I'd learned to do these body checks whenever anything was done to me, to look for any signs of something going really bad.

I had asked people before, the people we were certain weren't going to live, what their body felt like.

It seemed like there always was this moment of realization, and then fear, panic.

The mind and body's way of trying to keep you alive, not wanting to die.

It didn't matter if before that moment you had wanted to die, or you'd been waiting for and welcoming death, you would feel that fear.

Death had always fascinated me in a way, living in a place like this turns into just another part of life.

What I could never seem to accept about death was the fact that you had no second chance, it wasn't something that just happened and you could keep on going or try and come back to fix whatever you had done wrong.

That alone, made me detest death, losing myself without actually being able to see the way life would be or losing those I love without seeing them flourish outside TCRC.

That's why I closed my heart off for so long.

I kept thinking about all the things TCRC took away from me and couldn't help but think and wonder what I'd be like outside of here, or what my life would have been like.

I wanted to imagine a realistic life if I ever got to leave.

I wanted a beautiful little house, maybe with Rose, a lot of flowers, different kinds of flowers that my eyes had never ever seen.

So many books and pretty rooms filled with things that make me happy and I collected while going to so many different places.

I want a job that brings me joy, I don't want to be like the people who work here.

None of them like it here.

They do it for the benefits because they can't get a job like this one, they are threatened.

Absolutely no one who works here does it because they chose it and that's just the sad reality.

What would be my ideal job? Maybe an editor so I get to read all these beautiful books and help someone to allow people to enjoy their work.

I closed my eyes, imagining a life where I had time, and freedom, a life where I could choose to do anything and not worry or think about how much time I have left to live.

I guess everyone at some point has to worry about time but most people only come to the realization that they could die at any time if they're sick or if they're old.

Not at TCRC, people will start thinking about it at a young age, if you aren't always aware of it that is.

I realized I would die one day, when I saw a girl not too old crawling across the floor in desperation trying to leave, then 2 men picked her up, her body completely exhausted, too weak to try and fight against them.

She couldn't even keep her head up, it was evident she felt defeated, she let out a few sounds, and then her entire body gave out.

The supervisors laid her back down on the floor, her hair covering her face for the most part, they left her there and went somewhere else to get a bed to take her away.

I remember walking up to her body, not much higher off the ground than her body, and pushing her hair off of her face, then I tried to wake her up, not realizing she was dead.

I saw that she seemed super young, compared to other people I'd seen, mainly staff members, that's when it hit me, she wasn't returning to her body, and that the same could happen to me at any moment.

Then and there, I truly realized the horror of these tests, I understood that the stuff they injected in my veins and the pain they would inflict on my body wasn't meaningless.

There would come a point where my body would no longer heal, the day would eventually come where I would no longer live, my death only one of many more...