Prologue
Escape
Forever is one day; one day means forever.
I have thought, spoke, and lived with it.
If forever means one day, then what does a day count for us?
Maybe, just a day. . . It is just a day.
Resentfulness just covers up everything, you say.
When did I become embittered by you?
We have not varied ourselves from every people that love.
We have not. . . We have not. . .
__________________________________________________________________
The sun shone vigorously on one September afternoon. Downy clouds flooded the ocean sky; I listened to the sound of the engines of the airplanes that pass by.
"If I look at the sky, I shall be blinded by the sun's smile, right? If I look at the ground, the pearls of our memories will fall."
Existence may be not the right word; truth is. But, the truth is existence. Thus, is my existence true?
I see, I feel, I breathe, I smell, I love, and I cry. . . I am true. I exist. I am living right now. Am I?
Here I am, playing peek-a-boo by myself in front of the mirror. No one desires to play with me. Therefore, they aren't people; they know nothing of love. I do. I always do, right? I am loving everyone, yes, I am trying to love them but they don't know how to love someone like me. I am what I am. But why? What is so hard to love about me? I am pretty, my skin is perfect, my face is somewhat like stolen from an angel. They don't know how to love me... They aren't people. They shouldn't be alive in this world.
"Hey kid. Stop talking."
Here I am now, weeping like a toddler who's been forgotten by eternity of her mother's caress. I despise human beings. I despise them... They are no longer alive in my memoirs.
"Hey kid. Stop yapping! Someone's trying to slumber over here!"
"Mom?"
"Oh, someone has really lost her mind..."
"I am not crazy!"
"Just go to sleep, kid. I am not your mother."
"No no no! You are my mother, right? Stop kidding your daughter like this."
"Mom your ! I am nobody's mother, got it? Now your mouth and slumber!"
I love people. I despise human beings. They are too different from my point of view. People love; human beings fake love. I am both. What is happening now? Mother, am I too beautiful for your world? Father, am I too exquisite for the people living in this world? I am, right? I am! I am! I am! Nobody's more precious than me.
And I'll live happily after my death. I can't wait! Maybe I'll be lovelier when I die. Then someone will love me like how people love each other. Maybe...
I have nothing to say...
I have no one to love...
I have many to despise...
I have less to see and smile at...
And now, I ponder why do I live?
For whom do I breathe for?
I have none.
I want someone.
I want love.
I want some care.
I want to love.
I want to feel someone's caress.
I want a heart...
I can just want...
I am gone.
I am dead.
I have been forgotten.
I have lost...
Cold air ruffles the sack that the woman beside me is wearing. She must be feeling cold at this weather. But she's a human being; I don't love them nor will I pity them. My dear confused anger, hold on to me. We shall pass every day with everything we've got. Call it love, the enemy of our hearts, never we'll see eye to eye to it. Nonetheless, it is hate that's behind that enemy of ours.
Now, see me now giggling like the happiest infant. I grasped the bittersweet veracity of yesterday's rejections. It was a nightmare; it tasted like marshmallow soaked in blood. Tears fluttered the whispering trees, while outcries left the serenading birds stunned. Why did it have to be that cruel? Oh, my dear fate, you're so pretty, thus I scorn you. I curse every single word you have said when I was preparing my childish life to be one of the best in the world. But father, why is my life like this? Why did you have to be the reason of my cherished hatred for human beings? I bet it feels good. Then, let me hate you too.
1
"What does my life signify?"
"It signifies strength."
"Why does my life signify strength? I don't even recognize any of my resolves."
"It is because you are afraid to recognize any of them."
"How would I? I don't even have any!"
"You do. A lot."
"I don't understand you."
"You do."
Locked up inside these four, pure white walls, that metal door is the only way out. There is nothing to do but to sit and look blankly at these walls. I don't know this place, nor the people in white coats that walk around outside my room. Have I attempted to see what's happening outside this room? Yes. A lot. But those attempts were futile. Whenever I tried to peek, there will always be another face facing me, blocking my vision, the guards.
"How long have I been staying in this place? Do I even remember what my name is or when was I born? Why am I locked up in this room? Where are my parents, my friends, and my relatives? I haven't seen or heard them visit me. Am I sick?"
Every morning, I would wake up getting all welled up by the remorse I feel for being abandoned. And those syringes that pierce my skin every time I get carried away by my emotions. They feel extremely nice. The sting becomes the sweetest sensation I've ever felt. For the lonely human being, I smile then I cry, repeat it all over again, making myself suffer from every pain I would remember. But the causes, I can't remember. Hopelessly, I ask these walls "Why?" And they won't even turn their faces away from me or give me a faint smile. No one wants to answer my questions. No one knows me. I don't know who I am too. Why?
"Patient No.24 please go to your bed."
"Why?"
"Patient No. 24 please go to your bed."
"Why?"
"I repeat. Patient No. 24 please go to your bed, now."
"I don't want to sleep yet!"
They say, live your life to the fullest. Tell me, how is that possible for me? I have become a monster that respects no one.
They say, love is beautiful. Being in love is sweet. Then what am I?
I hear footsteps passing by my room every day, and yet all I can see is their hands when they give me food.
If I'll sleep in a room, I want the walls to be color red. But why are these walls white?
They say, sunshine makes your skin glow and healthy. Tell me, what does it feel like to be under the sun?
I may call myself an adult now, but what is it really to be an adult?
There was a time when a lady brought me some food. When she was putting the food on the floor, I saw her nails, it was red, my favorite color.
There was a time when the guards had to calm me down using a white liquid. I smelled something very fragrant emitting from one of the guard's clothes.
I wonder what are those things, the smell, the red nails.
Will I ever experience smelling like the guard too? Or having colored nails just like the lady who brought me food before?
What happened to me?
"I did not want her!"
"But why not? She is precious to me!"
"Precious? What is so precious about her?"
"Every thing about her is precious to me."
"Then so be it. Live alone with that precious trash of yours."
I have a father and a mother. I am very sure of that. Do I have siblings? Maybe. Where are they are right now? What are they doing? Are they looking for me? Maybe they are very worried. I have been missing for many years, I suppose. I wish they won't think I am dead already. Mother, father, how are you doing? I am. . . I am. . . I am. . . Your daughter. I am missing. Please look for me. I want to go home.
"Hello, how are you?"
"Why?"
"Hm? How are you?"
"Why?"
"My name is Tiffany Hwang. How are you?"
"Name? You have a name? Tiffany..."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Why? What do you mean?"
"Why do you have a name?"
"Because I am human. You are, too."
"What is my name?"
"Hmm. . . Let me check. You are Patient No. 24. . . And your name is. . ."
"Patient No.24. That is your name."
"So, I must be called by my name? It sounds weird. I like your name, Tiffany."
"I am very sorry. I can't give you any name other than Patient No.24. That's your name here in the record book."
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
"Then so be it. Patient No.24 huh?"
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