My Vacation

As I slowly walked along the corridors of this building, a few people turned around to look at me, wide-eyed and curious. Their movements were awkward and a few of them would react in manners that could somehow momentarily frighten anyone who was encountering these people for the first time.

From where I was standing, everything around me almost felt like a completely different world.

It was a hot and balmy afternoon, and the ceiling fans were making strange creaky noises in the old building.

One of the rooms that I entered had me surrounded by somewhat lifeless-looking bodies staring straight at the ceiling. Many had their hands and legs tied up for their own safety. The only trace of life in them was that of the sudden twitching of their eyes.

They’ve been born that way. And most of them are the unwanted children of young mothers who had wanted to get rid of these kids through self-induced abortions that had failed (i.e.: unauthorized consumption of abortion drugs, thus affecting foetal development). Left with no other choice but to carry on with their pregnancies, these young mothers very soon left their newly-born deformed babies to be cared for by this centre. The word “Quasimodo” instantly came into mind…

In one corner of the building, a scrawny little girl sat hunched on her bed… she rocked herself to and fro, clapped her hands, bobbed her head uncontrollably and screamed… and as I approached her, she smiled, held my outstretched hand, and stopped screaming.

Picture above: Evelyn had to be constantly tied up for fear she might end up eating her own fecal matter. She wouldn’t have known what she was doing anyway.

Evelyn was eleven-years-old but she had the body of a kindergartner. As I held her, I could feel her protruding backbones against my fingers. She grabbed my fingers and started staring at them… and then she started clapping the palm of her hand against mine. She had spent her whole life on that bed and never known what was outside… Yet I hear certain psychos telling me, “You should go out more and be badder… Enjoy life more!” (Sure, I’d truly enjoy it if you’d jump off a bridge or something… hooray) \^.^/

“The people here don’t realize what they’re doing. They sometimes injure themselves. How would they know? They’re born like that. Sometimes, when they’re depressed and frustrated on their beds, they scream very loudly. But the neighbours complain and report us to the authorities…” one of the nurses said.

I didn’t know how to respond to what the nurse had said… and I wasn’t sure how many of those sensitive neighbours (who own kinda nice houses) go to churches and temples to pray on a consistent basis… I really don’t want to know…

And so it suddenly occurred to me: “Why do people who supposedly look and dress normal actually act and talk in a totally more retarded way than those who are physically and mentally less fortunate?”

Whoops, sorry. Wrong sentence. Again!

Rephrase:

And so it suddenly occurred to me: “Thank God for all the wonderful simple things in my life…”

`````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

Stuff you have to wanna read:

1. Let’s Send the APIIT-UCTI Monsters to Hell

2. APIIT-pUCTI’s Perpetual Parking Problem

3. Spirit & Pride