I have a story to tell, but I might not make it out of here alive.

I have a story to tell, but I might not make it out of here alive. Everything feels very cramped. I don’t really feel like I have a ton of rights at the moment. Some days, I just listen and listen and listen… I hear the humdrum of voices and other sounds on the other sides of these walls. The conversations that people have around me don’t really make a lot of sense in my mind. They are just words, I guess. Some voices are kind of familiar. Every now and then, there are new voices that I don’t recognize.

I have a story to tell, but I might not make it out of here alive. I just sit here twiddling my thumbs, waiting for some kind of breakthrough. I wish I could riot, but it’s just me here in solitary confinement. Trapped. What did I do to deserve this kind of treatment? I feel like a criminal, but how can that be so? I gently touch the wall and it’s warm to my touch. I try to take a deep breath, but the breath just escapes me for some reason.

I have a story to tell, but I might not make it out of here alive. I wonder what my purpose is here. What on earth am I doing? Why can’t I have more of a job or something productive to focus on? The days drag on and on. It all feels so exhausting and I don’t know how I should think about it all. I lose track of the days in fact. My thoughts kind of flutter around, or are they dreams? I stretch my legs and then I stretch my arms and then I stretch my neck then I repeat all of the above. I’m trying to make sense of it all. I’m trying to self-entertain but it’s not working very well.

I have a story to tell, but I might not make it out of here alive. One day, I hear something different than voices. It’s smoother and it puts me into a trance of sorts. Why is this sound so beautiful and different? It whisks me off my feet and I feel as if I’m floating, just suspended in mid-air. I am just amazed and mesmerized beyond measure. I long for more of this type of sound but then it stops. I start to cry because I want it back so desperately. I ball my fists and bang them on the walls, hoping that someone will start the sound again. I try to scream loudly, but alas, there is only silence that springs forth from my mouth.

I have a story to tell, but I might not make it out of here alive. Is any of this making sense? I want to be understood here. So, do you understand me? Please, say you understand me! I cannot live without some form of validation that I’m not losing my mind here. Then, I remind myself of my daily routine and things feel a bit better. Is this self-soothing? I have got to remain calm and focused. Blowing kisses and wishes into my space, I start spinning in a circle. I’m not sure why but sometimes this just happens and I calm down when I spin around and around. Maybe my purpose is just to spin around. I could just pretend that it is my job, I guess. The darkness in here, is this all there is for me, or will there be more one day? What is my story that I have to tell? Will I live long enough to tell it? Am I really just a thing called a fetus?

I have a story to tell, but I might not make it out of here alive.