Follow James

My eyes sting with tiredness. I feel as if I could fall asleep right here, standing in the middle of the forest, but I know I must keep going. My mind wanders off to a far place as I follow James. Follow James. That is what the part of me that is still here says. Follow James. I can't remember how long I've been whispering this to myself. Hours. Days. Months. I only know that if I stop following I will die, even though I'm sure it would be better than living at this point. Follow James. That's what they told me when we left. Their faces stained with faux compassion. I remember wanting them to tell me they didn't care to my face rather than their silly act. Those days seem so distant now. Wanting to leave was the only thought I had then. Now that I've done it, I wish I could change my choice. I wish I had stayed in that white room. Identical to everyone else's. White walls. White furniture. White people. Bland, tasteless, plain. No sense of identity. I wanted something different. But difference in my world is painful.

When my mind is with me, I still like to dream about what true uniqueness would be like. I try to imagine the world we are walking to. But then I slip away, because that is what I have been raised to do. Slip away. Slip away. And follow James.

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