What Could've Been

I wasn’t always this way and I think that’s the hardest part. I look in the mirror now and see who's staring back and I think “Who are you? What did you do to me? Why did you do this?”

I sit by the window a lot, try not to bother anyone or make a fuss. I used to do a lot of things, things that these people would marvel at. I took my clothes off on stage in France and danced on table tops in Italy and kissed boys whose names I forgot in Poland. 

Sitting by the window here though helps me see the world, even just for a little. I used to see more of it every single weekend of the year, but now it is as far away as ever. So all I have is the window, well that and the TV everyone hogs in the activity room. They don’t even put on what any of us like, just whatever seems the most appropriate. Nothing with substance. Nothing with a real story. No genuine glimpses into the world. 

“Kyle.” I ignore my name, focusing on the distance, imagining it’s anywhere but here. “Kyle.” I stare harder, trying to see if I can feel what it feels like. “Kyle!”

I shut my eyes and sigh, I can’t ignore her much longer. I slowly tear my eyes away from the scene and turn them up to the day room nurse. I don’t know her name, I don’t know any of their names. They aren’t anyone to me except more people that won’t listen. 

“It’s time for games.” This blonde day room nurse informs. The other one, one with brown hair, is standing behind her with her arms crossed. I don’t know what I did, bt she’s already not happy with me. 

I look down at my gray socks that matches everyone else's. I used to never have matching socks at all. I would always grab whatever two single socks I could find and throw them on. Because I was always in a rush...in a rush… I was always in a rush because I was doing so many things. All the time. Always going somewhere. Somewhere out there. All the--

“Kyle. We’re not going to ask you again.” I look up from my socks. I can’t remember why I was looking at them. 

“Ask me what?”

The day room nurse with the crossed arms huffs. The blonde one rolls her eyes and nods her head to the tables everyone else is sitting at, all with their ugly gray grip. 

I get up from my sanctuary by the window and go sit at one of the tables. Hadley is already sitting down and Lacey joins us after I sit. Even in a world removed from society, I am able to make friends. 

I had friends all over the world at one point, from so many different times in my life. My life. What a grand time that was. Once upon a time, over the rainbow, in a galaxy far far far away. 

“Kyle.”

“What?”

“I asked, ‘What are we playing?’”

I look down at the table and see Uno cards. “Uno.” Or is it bingo? Or go fish?

“Ugh.”

“Not again. Miss!” Lacey raises her hand but we all already know it’s not going to do anything. We were going to have to play whatever they gave us, over and over again. 

I grew up playing Uno. First with camp counselors, then with friends, then with drinks. Then I left the game behind and kept the drinks and found even more games to play. I was always playing and finding the good kind of trouble. 

“Kyle. Are you playing?” Hadley asks while holding up her hand. We’ve told her over and over she shouldn’t show us her cards but she does the same thing everytime.

We play the mindless round of Uno, then another and another, feeling like hour after hour. Which is how a lot of moments here feel, slow hour by slow hour. Excruciating minute ending just to be followed by another. Time as a construct has been dismantled for me since moving into this purgatory. Left behind by family and those friends from everywhere who knew me when I was “once such a beautiful and happy girl”. 

“Kyle. Time for dinner.” A voice behind me brings me back to Uno. Or is it bingo? Or go fish? I look at the table and see three bingo cards in front of us but Hadley is still holding up Uno cards. But I thought we were playing uno. Or was it bingo? I blink at the table and theres a fish in the middle. Out of a bowl, gasping for water. 

“Ky…” It whispers, then breathes. I hear murmurs around me but I focus on the fish. “Kyle…kyle…”

“What?”

“Kyle..”

“What?”

“Kyle…”

“WHAT? WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

“KYLE!”

I blink and the fish is gone, and Lacey and Hadley are staring at me.

There are nurses behind Hadley and Lacey too, all saying something but I can’t hear anything they are saying. Everyone looks like they are staring at me and I am trying to point at where the fish was. 

I look frantically behind me and the nurse is saying something else, but she looks angrier. She keeps saying something but I can’t make it out. All I hear is muffled noises, are those some shouts?

I stare and stare, wanting this nightmare to be over. For this moment to be over just like all the other moments. The ones I cherish, the ones I wanted to live in forever, the ones I wish I bottled up and saved for these never-ending rainy days. 

“I don’t know what you’re saying.” I say but it’s also muffled. “I don’t know what you’re saying. I don’t know what you’re saying. Nothing makes sense. I shouldn’t be here. I SHOULDN’T BE HERE.”

I jump up and take the table with all its games and throw it towards the window. The room is becoming brighter and the humming is getting louder. This isn't’t me. This isn’t real. This isn't’t who I am. What happened to me? Who am I? 

I’m screaming now, which never goes over well. And yet it feels like the only thing that will make this stop. I feel someone grabbing me but I keep screaming. Screaming for all those moments that are so far away. Screaming for the arms that used to be wrapped around me, not used to restrain me. It’s happening now, they are trying to get control of me but how can they when there’s no way to control myself. 

Then I wake up. 

Back in my bed with a fuzzy replay of what happened coming together in my head. I used to wake up in bed with hangovers. With regrets about whoever  I kissed the night before. Regrets of drunk texts and some harsh words.  But I would take waking up like that than to my wrists and ankles strapped to the bed and a nurse ready to inform of who I struck across the face. 

I was going to be someone. I had dreams. I had a future. 

But now I lay here staring at the ceiling of this room that has become my prison yet there was no crime committed. Just pure luck. I turn my head and see the window that’s behind my bed. And I stare. And I dream of all that was and all that that could’ve been.