I tossed my hospital gown and buried it under the apple tree. I made my scars invisible, grew my hair curly and wild, and gained my energy level back to normal. I’m just like everybody else. Nobody could ever tell.
Yet I wake up at night and feel the presence of poison-filled plastic tubes, the flickering pale green light, and that god-awful dripping faucet. The images come and greet me whenever I’m afraid of life. Like clockwork, at 4 AM. Not to mention those special purple cells going through my bloodstream. The ones who got me in this mess in the first place. I hope they’re doing fine and aren’t plotting on pulling out one of their stunts again. A joke that lasted for a year and a half. I’m still laughing.
