Pain & Panic

Stumbling, in pain, blacking out.

I can't feel my legs.

I can't feel my face.

I can't feel anything at all.

But this is normal.

This is normal, this is safe.

But the light looks warm enough to fix me.

But I thought I was broken?

Can the warm light fix me?

I have my doubts.

Would it hurt to try?

It could.

But it could be worth it.

Should I try?

Perhaps.

Would it be smart?

Not really.

Would the light welcome me?

Probably not.

But.

But the light is there for a reason, yes?

The burnt orange is tempting, yes?

I should try?

Yes?

But walking hurts.

I don't care.

I need the light.

Has light always been this bright?

I wouldn't know.

Has it?

What do you do at the door again?

To make a sound?

To get attention?

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

I am greeted by a small child that looks to be about six, maybe almost seven.

I like this child.

But they look chilled.

They look scared.

They look like they want to scream at me.

But.

They.

Don't.

Dare.

Maybe it's that I look like a zombie.

Like I just crawled out of my grave.

Maybe it's because I feel like one too.

Leprosy, what a thing to have.

It hurts.

Then you die.

Brutal, but hey, that's life.

The child finally comes to its senses.

It runs upstairs as fast as possible.

I can tell because of the way that they're tensed.

I would die in a day or so anyways.

I want to be warm.

I want to be happy.

But.

That was all taken from me.

Just like my health.

Just like my family.

Gone.

No more.

No more happiness.

No more hope.

No more.

I can hear the child's incoherent crying.

They sound scared.

I don't blame them at all.

I'm scared of myself sometimes.

I can almost forget that I am covered.

I'm covered head to toe in dirty bandage.

I'm about to die anyway, why prolong it?

Death sounds nice.

Death sounds safe.

Safety was never something that was easy to find.

Safety is always too difficult and slippery.

Safety always left me to die.

My wife did.

My children did.

They meant the world.

They mean the world.

I don't want to see them hurting any more than I want them to see me.

I really don't.

But they didn't believe me.

So here I am, at death's door.

The woman that somehow appeared in the doorway looked concerned.

She even offered some help.

I can't accept.

If I do, she only gets hurt.

Then her family leaves her as well.

I sway on my feet.

I can't be stable in this state.

The woman does something awful, so awful.

She catches me and pulls me inside of her house.

I feel warm.

I feel loved.

I feel alive again.

But.

I can't stay.

I need to go.

I am unclean.

If I stay, I will hurt them.

I will hurt them all.

I can't have that.

They will die because of me.

They will hurt because of me.

Will they?

Or is that just what they say to scare me?

Is that just what they want me to believe?

No.

It has to be true.

It has to be.

Doesn't it?

Why would they lie?

No.

They can't lie.

They wouldn't dare.

Would they?

In what world would it be necessary?

In what world would it be needed?

Why would they lie?

For power.

For control.

But they have enough of those things, don't they?

I'm unclean.

I'm contagious.

I'm not allowed to be inside.

I'm not allowed to be happy.

Why?

I don't know.

But I am sick.

I am dying.

I am hurting.

I can't in good nature let these good people be the same.

The woman says something to me.

I don't hear.

I can't hear.

Nothing works anymore.

I don't care anymore.

I just want to be warm.

I just want to go home.

I just want to be happy again.

But I can't be happy.

I'm not allowed.

Nothing works.

Nothing works.

Nothing ever has.

I don't want to die.

I don't want to leave this place.

But this place is torture.

This place is pain.

This place is not home.

The warmth.

The warmth is making me feel again.

The warmth is making me feel it.

The warmth is making me feel my legs again.

The warmth is making me feel my face again.

I should be happy, shouldn't I?

I can feel again.

But.

It hurts.

It hurts so bad.

I can't scream.

That hurts too.

So I sit in pain.

So I sit and try not to cry.

These people don't deserve that.

These people don't want the one they just took in to cry like a child.

These people are too nice for this world.

I just want to give a bit of that back.

That would be nice, wouldn't it?

For them to be happy?

Of course.

I want them to be happy.

They just made me happy?

I forgot how to be happy.

How do I show happy?

How do I get happy?

Why do I need happy?

I don't.

I don't need happy.

I'm not allowed to be happy.

I won't be happy.

If I am happy, I'm taking away from these people.

If I am happy, I'm taking away from the world.

I can't be happy.

I can only be in pain.

That is the feeling that I deserve.

Not happy.

I am not happy.

I can't be happy.

It's not allowed.

If I am happy, I'm taking away from others.

So I can't be happy.

A leper can't be happy.

A leper isn't fit for happy.

A leper isn't fit for anything.

The woman is back.

The woman is trying to give me water.

I can't drink water.

I can't.

If I drink water...

I will hurt...

I will feel pain...

Pain...

Darkness...

Cold...

Why is it so cold?...

Nothing has felt so cold...

I thought it was warm?...

Warm...

But cold...