My earliest memory was of me at the front steps of an orphanage.It was late at night. I had been standing in front of the doors, alone, under the chilling moonlight. Wearing a dirty shirt and ripped pants, the cold air nipped my exposed skin. I can remember hugging myself, trying to keep myself warm.
How did I end up here? Where was this place?
There was no person in sight. All I could see was the darkness and the faint glow of the moonlight.
Finally, after shivering in the cold for hours, I was found. A women quickly brought me into the building, wrapping a blanket around my body. The other adults in the room quickly ran deeper into the halls, coming back with a medical kit.
"You"re freezing. Are you okay?"
I stared at her.
She grabbed both of my hands. "Why aren"t you speaking? It"s okay. You are safe with us. I promise."
I answered with silence.
After the workers were finished checking to make sure I was okay, they brought me to a room. They asked me questions about how I ended up on the steps and about my family. However, I couldn"t remember anything. Did I have a mother? How was my life before standing in the cold?
During that time, I did not speak a word.
There was no need to. For I had no answers to their questions.
Seeing how I was left at the front steps of the orphanage, the workers immediately brought me into their care. This place officially became my home.
But as a child, I couldn"t a.s.similate to this life.
Sitting in the middle of the room, clutching onto a ragged teddy bear, I would stay emotionless, ignoring the louds kids around me.
The light above would flicker, dimly lightly portions of the large room.
During this time, all I knew was that I didn"t want to talk to anyone. I wanted to be alone. I didn"t like this place.
Even when prospective parents would come to hopefully adopt a child, I would not make the effort to try and get adopted either. The parents who found me cute were all disappointed by my silence and lack of life, and they eventually picked other kids. The lucky children would leave with smiles on their faces while I stayed, unmoving, uncaring.
I just watched as the days pa.s.sed and lived an empty life.
Why did I live this way? Even I didn"t know the answer to this question myself. Looking back, I believe it may have been caused by psychological trauma from my family in the past.
School was the same. I didn"t feel like talking to other people. I just sat in my own desk and stared into s.p.a.ce. People a.s.sumed that I was mute, but the teachers knew that was not the case. They became worried that there was something wrong with my brain. A child my age should be smiling and happy. They never met a kid like me who never talked. Yet, they could not get me tested because I did not have parents and neither did I have the money to pay for one.
Eventually, I became invisible. That was the fate I chose for myself.
Upon reaching the age of nine, I noticed sudden changes in my body. At the most random moments, I would get splitting headaches. During physical education, I would not be able to run as fast as the other kids. If I tried to run, my entire chest would throb in pain. And as time pa.s.sed, even scars and cuts would not heal completely.
But n.o.body paid any mind to it. And I just a.s.sumed it was nothing either. After all, I was only a child. How would I know what to do? Besides, I didn"t even realize how serious the symptoms were. I just ignored the red flags that my body was giving me.
The symptoms increased.And I didn"t tell anyone.
My body would be in pain.But there was no one to turn to.
Eventually, my silence was what killed me.
One day while I was walking down the street and my body felt heavy. Without realizing it, darkness suddenly took over my body. When I woke up, I found myself at the hospital, lying on a hard bed. According to the doctors, someone found me lying on the streets and called an ambulance.
But of course, I didn"t care about the details. I just wanted to leave. I wasn"t even grateful towards the person that brought me here.
However, no matter how hard I tried. They would not allow me to leave.
I squirmed and pushed, using all my body language to tell them how I felt about this place. But the nurses had grabbed onto my arms and locked the doors. During this time, they already knew that I was an orphan. Therefore, they were not entirely surprised by my behavior and handled the situation calmly.
The doors finally opened and in came a doctor. There was a serious expression on his face.
"You"ve been having symptoms for a while now haven"t you? Your body. It hasn"t been normal right?"
For some reason, his words sucked me in and I took that moment to think. There had already been several times where I felt dizzy and wanted to faint. I stared into his eyes and nodded.
He was right. I did experience symptoms. But why was he asking me this? Was there a problem?
My suspicions grew and eventually, I was brought into a room full of monitors. Placed on the screen were numbers and words I couldn"t comprehend. Normally, in these types of meetings, parents would be the ones to talk to the doctors about their children"s illness. However, since I didn"t have anyone, I was the one that had to bear the news.
In that very place, I had come to learn about my illness.
To summarize, there was something wrong with my cells and they were having a hard time regenerating. Most of the terminology he was using was too complicated for me, even though he tried his best to help me understand the problem. However, even though I didn"t know what those words meant, I had the capability to figure out what the doctor"s expression and words were saying without it being explicitly said.
For the first time in years, I opened my mouth.
"Am I going to die?"
Even I didn"t recognize my own voice. It was high. And squeaky.
The doctor let out a sigh before nodding. "Let"s not put it in harsh terms. Currently, you have a terminal illness. Cellular degeneration is a normal thing for all living things. However, your illness makes it so that your body cannot regenerate the cells that are dying as fast as other people"s bodies can. Luckily for you, the hospital has a special program through the government for orphans who need medical care. With the help of our hospital, you will be able to live."
From the look in his eyes, I knew that he was sugar-coating his words to make it seem like there was hope for me. But still, although there was an initial shock, I did not care. There was nothing that I lived for anyways.
I just nodded.
Perhaps, this mentality was shocking for a eleven year old boy to have but during that time, I had absolutely nothing. I was just living for the sake of living. There was nothing to it.
Luckily, due to the government program for orphaned kids, I was able to get medical help. Although the medical a.s.sistance would end by the time I turned into an adult, I didn"t care enough to think that far. All I knew was that there was something wrong with me and that was that. I just followed what the adults told me.
The room I was placed in was shared with five other kids. They were all too loud. And just like before, I didn"t speak to them at all.
At first, I liked the hospital. The beds were more comfortable than the orphanage and the food was much tastier. It was clean here too.
But there was a something about the hospital that also caught my heart. This place was different than the school and orphanage.
Every day, parents who cared for their children would come and stay by their sides. I was able to see a new world that I wasn"t exposed to at the orphanage.
I saw familial love.
And I also saw people desperate to survive. Parents who prayed everyday for their children to get better.
While I didn"t care about whether or not I pa.s.sed away, there was people who were desperate to live every extra second. Parents who would sacrifice everything for their children to survive.
It was painful to watch. But I didn"t say a word.
I was going to die anyways.
Everything changed when I came to a dark realization.
While staying at the hospital, there was a large difference in my lifestyle. Since I wasn"t allowed to attend school, I was learning through an online cla.s.s. I wasn"t allowed to live the life of a normal student anymore. When I would try to go outside, there would always be a nurse to accompany me. I also wasn"t allowed to go past the hospital boundaries. To explain in a few words: I was trapped in here.
I missed freedom. The choice to life the way I wanted. Even if I hadn"t interacted with anyone, the freedom I was given and the opportunity of hope presented to me was a blessing. Even if I didn"t care, I still had those options.
I had a choice.
Now, my only choice was to stay at the hospital and wait for my death.
The only route that my life could take is to die.
However, even with these emotions piled up within me, there was n.o.body to tell my feelings to. By this time, it was too late, I had already forgotten how to talk to people. Although I observed how people spoke and could read their expressions easily, my social skills lacked. I became afraid to talk to people.
But, at the bottom of my heart, I knew that no matter how hard I tried, n.o.body would care about my death. Even though the nurses sent me smiles, I knew that their kindness was only a part of their job.
Friends? Please. The only people I ever got to interact with were my roomates. And there was no point in making friends with them. Ultimately, the kids in the hospital would pa.s.s away just like me. There was no hope.
And family? An even more absurd thought.
I had none.