Desperate for attention. Screaming, my vocal cords are about to give up

May 8th, 2016, 9pm

Inside a sealed box I inhale and exhale, wasting the oxygen with every breath I take. The walls are cold and I can’t see through the darkness. I miss my shadow. I’m afraid to move. I stay in the place where I was placed. Suddenly the black of the wall starts to fade. I can see through the glass that now is turning transparent. I’m inside a museum. There’s a sign outside the front wall of the box. I can not read what it says but everyone that can, looks at me with disgust. Like if I were an abomination. I can’t hear what they say. I can’t. Desperation, like electricity running through my bones and tissues, messing with my brain. I’m now the only exposition in the museum, all the others were covered again by the black walls. Everyone gathers around me, they start to discuss my imperfections, they analyze me from my head to my toes. They read the sign. They are telling me to do something but I can’t hear them. They get angry. Rage running through their veins. One of them draws a picture of a man standing on one foot and places it against the wall. His dead eyes looking at me, he points to the drawing and then to me. I guess he wants me to stand only on my right foot and so I do. I’m standing there with all my weight in one foot and suddenly, almost synchronize, everyone takes out a piece of paper to draw different positions for me to copy. I guess that was all they wanted, so I start to pose for them, but the drawings are too many. I can’t please them all. They start to shout. Their mouths are as open as they can, their lungs about to collapse. They start to hit the walls trying to break them. I’m starting to get more anxious, more scared. Why don’t they go? Why do I have to please them all? They now push the box. It falls to the ground. As the box falls I close my eyes and scream. My vocal cords are about to give up when the box hits the floor, and then I realize I’m not breathing, I can’t speak, I can’t cry, I can’t hear myself screaming. My thoughts are all I have. No one is talking now they are just staring, forever watching. And now my soul is lost. Forgotten in the eyes of those who saw me. Naked in a box, following commands and pleasing their imaginations. The box slowly turns black again. I’m still inside, shivering… I have to prepare for the next show.

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Robert Tucker

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