This is a piece of micro-fiction, inspired by today’s writing prompt. I love this kind of exercise, being able to go wherever the story takes me. Enjoy!
I’ve spent my life on the inside. Many have feared me, they’ve even been repelled by me, but that doesn’t matter. Not as much as being locked away.
I never complained about being a prisoner. Back then the moments of freedom, though seldom, were worth the weeks and months of seclusion. I was never truly alone. Not really. At least I could hear, feel touch. Even if I couldn’t always see. I was on the inside.
It’s different now. Now it’s I who am afraid. I’m out in the cold. Banished, and branded a monster. They don’t understand that I’m part of the whole, part of something bigger. They don’t see that I have feelings too. I never hurt anybody, never wanted to. My voice didn’t speak of evil, didn’t tell my other to do terrible deeds. All I wanted was to be heard, to be valued – understood.
I used to be on the inside, and yet, even then, I was an outsider looking in. Trying to communicate with those I loved, trying so hard to forget the distrust. The terrible shame of my existence.
It doesn’t matter anymore. It might never matter again. Soon I’ll be nothing; nobody. Soon the medication will irradiate me so completely I won’t even care. I won’t be on the outside. I won’t be anything at all.
Thanks for reading.