the ill

                        I am sick. I lay on my floor staring at my yellow ceiling. It wasn’t always yellow.  A long time ago it was white. I would sit in my room and smoke.  Each cloud a being that danced, some where spirits others where angels, but most were demons. Evil little play toys. They only escaped my room once. Back before I was really sick I had a window. The weirdest sounds would come in from it. Bees! That’s what it was; buzzing always came flooding in through my window all sun light long. The other half of the time it was crying. Sad morose painful moans; cries of life.  It was during this short time that when I smoked the demons escaped. I didn’t see it happening in the light my friends didn’t show. In the dark they danced on the warm breeze to the music of the sorrow and straight out the window. That night the cries became more horrible then before. I knew my toys were the cause. I closed the window and again the smoke waltzed straight to my white ceiling, leaving their mark. I am sick.          
         I don’t smoke anymore, a law was passed. My Mother passed it, she takes care of me. When I told her about the demons I let loose, she quickly boarded up my window. She laughed as she did it, I don’t think she likes me. Why should she, I am sick.  I have been for thirty years. Every day she turns on my light and gives me breakfast. I hear her spit on my food before she comes in “medicine” she lies. I haven’t got any better. At lunch she always brings a drink its lemonade. Yellow like my ceiling and bitter like her. Sometimes I wish life would just give me some sugar. Mommy wants me to die and at dinner she always brings a shaker of rat poison, I never use it and fifteen minutes later she shuts the light off. I hope she would die, then someone else would take care of  me maybe heal me after all I am sick.
         I am not trapped in my room and Mother can’t stop me.  When ever I want to leave I lay in my tiny bed. My knees bend at the end while my feet touch the floor. I outgrew it a long time ago. There are three metal springs that poke my left shoulder all night long. Mother taunts “get better if you want a new one”.  My bed is a door, a precious escape from the prison of maternal pain. I never want a new one. I go where ever I please. I have even met people like me.  Once I had a friend Oscar. We would drink coffee and eat cookies on top of the Eiffel tower.  Oscar was a fat man with two uneven eyes and one strand of grey hair that went down to his feet. He never wore shoes. We would stare at all the people; he would laugh at their cries. It confused me, with Oscar the cries sounded like laughs. Maybe it’s because I was laughing.
         Oscar was great at first, often aided by is two buck teeth Smelly and Toad. They were great conversationalist. Then one day he became rude and unkempt. Often yelling to the people “you don’t know what suffering is”. I don’t think he knew either, he didn’t have my mother. One night he hugged me goodbye and I went back through my door. The light was just coming on, Mother had found him. She had on her blouse a pin. It looked like Oscar but with long bunny ears. She got to him.  Even Smelly and Toad didn’t get away. Frozen on her chest, what a horrible fate.
         After that I found new friends. I started hang out with the President. A real nice man, funny too. We would go to the mall and watch the girls shop. He always pointed out the ones who would “put out”. What ever that means? One time we were staring at these two girls.  We followed them all around. Then the one President thought attractive turned and yelled at us “Stop looking at my ass.” He didn’t miss a step.
         “My dear lady, I am shocked at how conceited you are. It was not your ass but the one on your mammoth friend. It is large at beautiful and I am sure it is full of the cutest dimples. You madam are skinny and week looking.  Completely lacking of any detail that would even make you look half of a female.  Good day to you.” She started to cry and I went home. Mother got to him too, the next time I went to visit him his guards wouldn’t let me. What a bitch. She told them I was sick.
         Now I don’t meet anyone I just explore the world. I travel I see a sight and then go home. I have started going in peoples houses. I watch them live. I don’t know why they cry about it I would love to. They can come and go as they please. They work and play, I just sit in my room. I can not do those things because I am sick.
After a bit of exploring I started following a very pretty girl she had blue eyes, and the most golden blonde hair.  I followed her into some mans house. They did things that I can’t explain and then he was mean.  I think he was one of my demons and then she wasn’t pretty anymore. I followed him everyday. Finally I got him alone on a frozen lake. He looked scared and cold as he dropped something into the ice. With all my exploring, I learned I could go anywhere, do anything. I acted fast with the pain of all those I had watched, I pulled him under into the ice. Now I know why they cry. I cry at night now and Mother yells at me.
Now every morning Mother tells me how bad I am. She added locks, now there is three loud clicks before my door opens and three more when it closes, only when she has exited though. Sometimes she leaves it cracked as she places the food tray on the floor. I hear the buzzing when she does that. I wish she would just stop feeding me. I don’t like her spit or lemonade. I don’t even explore anymore. Every chance I get I just go stand by that lake. Everything hurts; I think she started putting the rat poison on my food for me. “Tonight I don’t think I’m coming home from the lake.” I lie to myself every night.
          Today is different though. Today Mother left my door open. I think she is letting me go. I left my bed and slowly peeked through the door. There was no buzzing. I crept out careful not to make a sound, I couldn’t risk her changing her mind.  The house seemed to be filled with people all dressed for a party. Not a single person paid me any attention. I walked amongst them I heard words like “better place” and “not suffering”. I found Mother she was dressed in all black covered in a veil, she had to be hiding a smile. 
I turned and saw a strange man. He was old and had on a green robe and a toothless grin. I felt a chill as he came near me. His bent frame maneuvering past the people, to well for someone his age. He extended his hand. A long shriveled arm full of wrinkles with the palest skin.
         “Come with me.”
         “I can’t I am sick.”
         “No, now you are free”
         “You mean better?”          
         He shook his head “No.”
         “I’m going to go back to my room,” I whimpered.
         He placed his hand on mine and with strength of all the cosmos he pulled me out of the house. I tried holding my place but he was stronger and dragged me towards the beyond. I don’t want to be free I want to be sick