Awake

Where am I? Out of the darkness? It’s still dark here, but the darkness is darker. Where is this? Lost, lost, lost. The strange word is echoing. That word fits. Where are we? Lost. What’s going on? Lost. Who am I? Lost. The word tastes dry.

Realization strikes. Where are WE? We. Me and you. You! Another strange word arrives. Hope. Who are you? Hope. Where is here? Hope. Sweet, sweet hope.

Strange gesture. Denial? The sweet is gone. A strange feeling. Fury. I expend all my air, being loud at nothing. Again. Again. Black.

Awake.

Lost still. Good? Perhaps. Lost is familiar. Lost is safe? Confused. Is not lost better? I ask. I notice. You gone. A new you in a white jacket, severe and stern. Freeze. Enemies sense movement. The new-you asks things. I will not understand. Lost is safe? No. New-you say a new word. Normal. A funny tasting word. Tastes warm, bizarre, not strange. No, no, not strange. Normal murders strange. Stab, stab, stab. Point the sharp knife at the strange new-you. Black again.

Awake.

Old-you is back. Normal. Safe. Old-you with new-yous alongside. Not safe. Two new-yous. One, two. With me and you that’s three and four. Thumb war. Confusion.

Two new-yous, silent and still. Scary. Danger, danger. Must fight. Must stay me. Must kill the two new-yous. Bring back the numbers to one and two. Can’t. Stuck. Arms wrapped around in a cold embrace. I wear a jacket. I do? Confusion. Stuck. Caught. Fear.

Old-you speaks, in a familiar way. I am unable to understand. Old-you is bleeding water. Why? Is old-you hurt? Confusion.

Why is old-you familiar? Why? Who is old-you? A word arrives, piece by piece. Lots of M’s. No, not a word, an identity. Momma. Momma. Momma. Tastes of salt and water. Momma? I ask old-you. Eyes widen. Bleeding water more. Affirmation. Triumph.

Old-you… no… the Momma approaches. Wraps arms around me. Embraces my cold embrace of self. Stuck. No. Safe. Warm. Confusion. Water is dripping down my face. Oh no. I realize I am bleeding water too. Attack, attack. Where is attacker? Struggle. Black.

Black is different today. In the darkness, black was safe. But I am no longer in the darkness, only in the lost. Here in the lost, black feels lonely today. And lonely feels like pain today. In the black today, all the feelings feel different. I lunge at them. Chase away those feelings. Unlike the things in the darkness, these feelings don’t fear me. Danger. Danger. Danger!

Awake.

The Momma makes warbling sounds with mouth. Strange, but soothing. Confusing, yet calming. Feels of a new word. Natural. Yes, natural. It’s natural that the Momma makes the warbling sounds, so soft and smooth, yet so up and down. Yes, the Momma is natural. Safe. I am at the Momma’s mercy, but because the Momma is natural, I am safe. The new-yous are not natural. Therefore, they are not safe. I get it. I must protect the Momma from the new-yous, lest they infect the Momma with the not-natural.

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I realize. I am stuck, yet not stuck. This cloth jacket can’t hold me. It just makes me think it can. Illusion, I think, but one I feel. Powerful. But I am smart. I have outsmarted the things in the darkness, I will win by being smart and waiting. For now, I close my eyes, and listen to the strange but natural warbles made by the Momma. I let the new-yous think they caught me, and I listen. Gradual black.

_______

Yesterday, we learned more words. The yesterday before was the day we went to the house. The Momma had said I knew to speak enough to go to the house. The house does not have the not-yous, which the Momma calls doctors, or the dangerous not-yous, which are called soldiers. The house seemed safe. And then I met the cat.

Yesterday, I met the cat, and because of that, today we learn colors. The Momma seemed to not like that I liked the color of the cat. The Momma decided to teach me colors, so I could choose to like a different color. I too was excited to learn colors.

Green is like some of the food I have been eating. Green is weird. The things the Momma calls plants are green. The Momma says that green means new life. The Momma says green is like me, that it shows that I was lost, but I was given new life. I like green now that the Momma likes it, but to me, it is unpleasant to look at.

Yellow is also weird. Yellow is a soft color that makes your eyes hurt. The book that the Momma shows me colors in shows the sun being yellow. But I looked outside, and do not see how the sun is yellow. The Momma doesn’t believe me, but the sun is many colors. The sun is lying to Momma. Yellow must be the color of liars.

My two favorite colors are red and blue. Red is the color of the cat. It’s the color where you think you will die and learn how you are alive. The feeling of red is… the Momma used the word visceral to describe the red on the cat. I looked up that word in the book of words, and that word fits red. Red make my insides squirm and my breathing quicken. I wonder if those squirming insides are red too. There was no red in the darkness, and I did not know I was alive, but here I do know red and know I am alive. If green is new life, then red is the novelty of the thrill of life. I like red.

I like blue too. Blue is the color of familiarity. Not the color you notice first, but the color you notice second. The Momma showed me blue, and I realized after a while that I knew blue. The Momma’s eyes are blue. The sky is blue. The walls of the place that saved me from the darkness were blue, so blue also means life. Do all colors mean life? Perhaps. The Momma is confused by the question.

The Momma still does not like that I like red but likes that I like blue. The Momma shows me another color. Purple, it is called. It is the color if you mix red and blue, the Momma says. “Do you like it?” The Momma asks. I look at purple a long time. It is a mix of red and blue, that is true. But I think long and hard. Would I like the blue of the sky, if red was mixed in? No. Would I like the red of the cat, if blue was mixed in? No. Would I want to look at the Momma’s eyes if they were combined with red? No.

The Momma looks expectant. The Momma wants me to like purple. I am not sure. “What does purple mean?” I ask. The Momma looks it up. Purple is the color of rulers, of power, of wealth. I think on that. That means, unlike all the other colors, purple existed in the darkness. I became the purple of the darkness. Purple is between blue and red, between familiar and novel. I am between blue and red. I realize purple is my color. I tell the Momma. The Momma smiles. I still do not know if I like purple, but deep down, I know, purple is me.