Unpretty

Unpretty - 8

I sat with my hands folded in my lap and my back perfectly straight.   

That was about thirty minutes ago.

Now my hands are flailing, my voice near to screaming. 

I am not the cornered animal four days ago; I am now a furious animal ready to attack until I get what I want.

What do you mean we can’t go any further? I told you to find a way around it. 

I try my best to control my voice but it’s impossibly hard to contain my anger and frustration. 

Calm down.  We will explain everything again to you, the doctor says to me as he tries to touch me.

They calm me down but to no avail. I am now standing and pointing fingers at everyone in the room.

No I will not calm down and I will not listen to you tell me again and again how my face cannot be fixed!  You let me wait for nothing. I thought you were the best doctors! You’re all useless! You all should just close this pathetic excuse of a surgery center and die!

I scream all these bottled rage at them, thinking maybe doing so can ease the hurt.   That maybe once I let it all out, acceptance might come. 

I carelessly throw my shawl to the floor and reveal my face. 

See this face? This is the one thing that keeps me away from happiness; this monstrous face that I have.  All I want is to be normal, to be loved, to feel like I’m not an outcast.  All I want is not be Unpretty. Why can’t you give me that?

Another doctor tries to reach out to me and asks me to sit down. 

You are not ugly and you are not monstrous.  You have to calm down, he tells me.

Again with this fake sympathy.  What is it with you doctors that think your patients buy that? We don't.  You don’t feel what I feel. You’re not me so don’t tell me what I am and what I should feel about this.

My chest is heaving and my throat starts to hurt from shouting. 

I wipe tears from my eyes and place my arms around me.

I suddenly become weak and I involuntarily sit down on the floor. 

All I want is not be Unpretty anymore. Why can’t I have that?

Gone is the enraged version of me.  My voice becomes nothing more than an exasperated whisper.  A voice that sounds filled with pain.  A voice I hardly recognize as my own.

All along I repeat the last words I said.

All I want is not be Unpretty anymore. Why can’t I have that?

The doctors all look at me from a safe distance except one.

The lady doctor sits beside me and puts her arm around my shoulders. 

She talks to me in a soothing voice, like a mother talks to her child.

The doctor stands up and helps me stand as well.  She leads me into a labyrinth of doors and rooms until we reach one of the recovery rooms and orders me to lie down on the bed.

I will give you a shot to calm your nerves.  When you are calm and well rested enough, we will talk again.

I am at a loss for words.  I feel dazed and lost.

So I simply nod and let the medicine take over me.

Here I am again in a state where everything feels unreal. 

Like I'm watching a dream about myself that's playing in slow motion.

That feeling when you notice everything all at once that it becomes all too much you wish you'd end up forgetting instead.

That there's no other feeling left but utter hopelessness.

And you wish it's just a dream but you panic because you realize it's real.

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I just read it again and I am laughing at myself. It's drama-ish, I can't believe I wrote it.haha.fail