Picture Perfect #2

We will fight back, we will prevail. The words were on replay in my head as I sat complacent in my bus seat. My cheek against the cool smooth surface of the window. The bus rolled along the deserted country road, on its merry way to the next treatment facility. We were the creatures of the night, free to haunt the afraid. We were the shadows of the day, caught only in glimpses. We were not cruel, but we were not kind, we were simply bored and self-assured. Feigning invisibility, it was all we could do in this sad little corner of the U.S. We had to be the blind eye, we had to forget what our world was like and throw caution to the wind; it was the only way to keep our dreams of freedom alive.

We had to fight back, we would have prevailed. But someone turned on a light in our dark room and cast a light over our shadows. You’d know that someone, does the President of the Grand ‘Ole United States of America ring a bell? Should be ringin’ that liberty bell, calling to all the lost souls of the world to come and follow the American dream. But ever since the epidemic, ever since our over-drugged populous had somewhat of a “mental shutdown,” the big guy upstairs has been shipping us by the bus load to be reset. Like flipping a big switch, every memory of who we were before 25, vanishes. We are given a polished new history, a shiny new life and set of characteristics. Of course, nothing they wouldn’t approve of. Everyone is compliant, quiet, and overly cordial – something I find particularly nauseating. I escaped it all, my people of the earth parents let their natural remedies fix themselves and me. Not relying on doctors and the pharmaceuticals that took our nation down. Still, I watched as my peers spiraled into self-hatred. Or as their personalities split, their alter egos turning on them, tormenting their every thought. I watched as buses pulled into our small town, shipping them out in droves. I ran (natural instinct) until I found my purpose. Well, I suppose the rebellion found me.

                But now we sit in our bus seats, with only memories of our past to cling to for the next 24 hours. Being transported to our new contemporary lives. “Civilized” Is what they told us we’d be, “Like the rest” is what we’re supposed to hope for. But we know our creative sparks will be erased, we will lose our will to fight. I blink back tears, thinking of losing everything I’ve known. It cannot come to that, it won’t. The shadows will fall on us once again, and we will be hidden. We will torment the powerful, deceive the “Genius”, save the fallen. My tears stop, and I can feel my adrenaline pumping through my veins as the bus rolls to a stop. I look up, seeing the red octagon signaling our arrival at redemption. My lips curve into a devious sneer. I look quickly at my fellow trouble makers, and their faces seem to hold the same expression. I turn my face towards the roof, and laugh. I sniff a little, an inside joke, and say “Smells Like Teen Spirit”, the doctors ignore my comment, mumbling something about the sickness, but we know the meaning. I rise from my seat like the others around me, and with this we charge our captors. Fighting back; prevailing.