Synthetic Anesthesia This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

Beep.

Confinement.

I was trapped; wires, tubes, and chords beating life through my been-dead veins. Prevaricating emotions clouded my view of reality, succumbing me within my own prison-- composed of these wires and machines.

Beep.

My veins, they were dry and grainy with a weakness and fragility I would have once associated with a moth's wing, yet fluid flowed forcefully through them; a twisted form of dark miracles. I felt as if I were made entirely of plastic, cellophane, styrofoam cutouts of white blood cells and platelets, all fake, all subconsciously unreal; somehow still alive within my own putrefaction.
"Let me go," I wanted to scream at the nurses, my family, the doctors who specialized in forcing life into things that God willed to decay.
My time here had been finished, my gates to heaven opened. But I was tied down to earth with strings, wrapping themselves forcefully around my screaming wrists and my aching waist. The gleaming gates shone brightly literally inches from my ghostly face, my convoluted nose still broken in the position on which the accident had left it shattered. This nose, this broken and torn body just wanted to be healed; something God could grant if allowed the blessed opportunity. But I was trapped here, being restrained on Earth against my own meaningless will.
I tugged desperately against my chains, tears forming in my eyes and screams forming on my lips; but none released. My bruised wrists began to form welts and scars, and my ankles developed blisters and infected open wounds. This ghostly figure of my soul was trapped here, breaths before heaven, yet she could not utter a single sound nor emit a tiny cry. Yet again I yanked at my restraints, wishing hopelessly to have a heart attack, an accidental unplug, a misdiagnosed medication. Anything that could set loose this confined soul, gripping at the edges if inhumanity. Ripping at the shreds of what she had left.
Just wanting to be free.

Beep.

God was calling me, his eager hand beckoning my return. But the pain still flowed eloquently through my brittle body-- I knew I was still tied tightly, doctors and sinners gripping fast to the life of which I was finished with.
I wanted a voice. It was all I wanted, a method, any method, so that I could somehow make my wishes knowm. My vocal chords were screaming, but not with sustenance. Rather, they were screeching with silence, my muscles involuntarily contracting and contorting, my limbs conforming to whichever position the doctor had chosen while I lay helpless underneath the medication-induced surface. This was not life-- this was not God's creation. This was a mutant, a blasphemy, a disordered clone of what God had intended to be beautiful. This miracle had been twisted and diluted, the beauty filtered from beneath the wires and chords, too large of a fascination to fit through.

Beep.

I wanted a mind, a voice that could respond to it... I wanted so horribly to make my wishes known.
But I could not. I could not force pain through these lips, sight through these eyes, or life through these aching limbs.
I was trapped in misery, a cage of endless torture. Sensory knowledge of the pain that my body was being forced to endure would gyrate throughout my mind-- every thought process tainted with the rustic feel of ache. However, the most desired and longed-for component of life-- the ability to speak one's mind-- had been stolen from me. I was now frozen in an endless state of torturous aging, a miserable and unbearable state of sleepless sedation.

Beep.

I was restrained beneath the weight of medication, a constant pressure compressing me beneath the brink of unconsciousness.
Something had to be done. Something had to be done, for the consequence of this cowardly and superficial half-life were too great to bear. I began my ritual. I began attempting continuously to move my limbs, my tongue, my jaw, my fingertips... All to no avail. I quickly discovered the impossibility of escape, and I screeched within my mind, my brain sending signals that were cut off by falsely generated and byzantine nerve impulses, sickly discoveries of which were intended to save rather than condemn. How ironically and miserably helpless I was.

Beep.

That noise became an entirely different torture in itself, radiating throughout my system, reminding me constantly of the wires and fluids stemming from my flattened chest like an arachnid's web. Slowly, I was becoming lost in it's harsh silk, and soon I hoped they would return to eat me alive.
At least then, I would be freed.

Beep.

Dammit.

Beep.

I despise this torture of sensory dysfunction.

Beep.

I was isolated-- solitary confinement. My mind was slowly withering away like the wind in the summer, slipping from beneath my fingertips like water would through soft leaves.

Beep.

Save me, release me from this man-made intermediary between earth and the heavens.

Love, I know you're out there, above all of this mind restraint I have been forced into. Love, I know you're waiting to hear me, waiting oh so patiently for me to gain the strength to rise above this unbearably heavy surface. Now, darling, it is but a proposal. But love, if I scream,

do you promise you'll hear me?



Beep.





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