Take a Deep, Deep Breath

Sometimes I lay on my back atop the mattress of my bed, with the lights off, and I stare at the ceiling fan as the blades rotate in a 360-degree angle. With my head back and my feet hovering just above the carpet, I lay perfectly still and imagine my feet are dangling over a ravine. Whenever I decide to do this, my mind works to portray what it would be like if I had the chance to actually visit a gorge, to actually live my life at my own liberty, and not someone else’s. Where I reside, it is required that people as young as myself are accompanied by a therapist until they reach the age of 18. The assigned therapist makes a living off of forming almost every opinion, decision, and idea for their forced patient. Being that I only recently turned 16, I have 2 years until I can lead a life of my own. For now, I must continue to live by the regulations of my therapist, Imogen.

“Ivy!” Imogen calls to me from the kitchen downstairs. I allow her voice to pull me from my thoughts as I sit up on my bed, images of freedom still roaming my mind. My feet find their way out of my bedroom and make it to the source of the holler. When I reach the kitchen, I find Imogen glaring at me with a frustrated look plastered on her face.

“How many times have I told you to do the dishes?!” she barks angrily at me.

“My apologies. I’ve been terribly busy with cleaning my room,” I lie.

“Alright Ivy,” Imogen responds as she quickly manages her temper. “But these dishes better be immaculate by the time I return. Oh, and when you finish, I’ll be expecting you in the study so we can begin today’s lesson on mental disorders.”

When night comes, after a long day of scouring dishes and attempting to assimilate the causes of mental disorders, I decide to sneak out of my house to go for a much-needed walk. Slowly pushing the front door open, careful not to make it creak, I step onto the cold concrete as a frigid gust of wind greets me. My shoes were left behind since Imogen keeps any shoes that enter the house beside her bed in an attempt steer clear of situations in which I could depart from home before asking permission. It is just as easy to walk outside without shoes as it is with them, but she believes that if I have no shoes, then I will avoid leaving. Obviously, she is wrong in this case.

I pursue a path that leads to a secluded garden, eyes glued to my feet as I walk. Just as the garden enters my view, I notice a brilliant green light emitting from my left. My mind is telling me I should not go near it, but my curiosity is pushing me closer, and closer, until I find myself face-to-face with a woman who seems to be in her early 20’s. For a reason beyond my knowledge, her hair is glowing luminously! Bright green! In a thick accent, she speaks, “Ivy Melrose, I am one of the few that have broken out of this system in which you call home. Do not mention our encounter to a single soul, unless you wish to be convinced that you have a mental disorder.”

She proceeds to tell me how the therapist-care-system has been rigged for years on end, and attempts to explain many foreign concepts to me, including one called “parents”. She speaks until we hear a peculiar sound in the distance, and invites me to meet her again the next day after the sky darkens. I eagerly accept the invitation and return home.

My mind is swarming with questions on the way back; one after the other until my brain begins to throb, anxious to know more. ‘Why was her hair glowing green?’, ‘what in the world are parents?’, ‘am I even safe in my own home?’.

Finally, back home, I climb into bed and force sleep upon myself.

I snap back into reality with another lovely screech from downstairs, “Ivy!” I let out a deep sigh and get on with the daily routine of doing whatever mindless nonsense Imogen requires of me. The day speeds by faster than expected, as I remain in a dreamy mind fog until sundown. As soon as I hear Imogen’s bedroom door close with a thud, I wait patiently to hear it lock. One ‘click’ later... and I am free! I grab my coat and dash right out the door.

A few hundred cold-pavement-steps later, I arrive before the garden. There’s that same green light illuminating from my left. I hurry over and am greeted, once again, by the odd, young woman. This time, before she even gets the chance to open her mouth, I blurt out the first thing on my mind, “So, how do you know me? How is it you know my name- my full name at that?”

“I’m surprised that’s what you are most curious about.” She calmly replies, “I know your name because I am close with your family, I am a friend of your parents.”

“Now, these parent-things of mine, do they have bright glowing hair too?”

“Yes.”

“And how is it your hair glows? Was it always green?”

“When we are born, our hair naturally glows from upon our heads. It is the disconnection from the truth of who we are that causes it to fade. Yes, it's always been green.”

I open my mouth to inquire more, when the same peculiar noise from last night goes off in the distance.

“That’s my cue.” The woman states, “I have much to share with you, but time is ticking, and tomorrow will certainly be too late for me. If you don’t return home tonight, your therapist will begin to search for you by morning. This might all sound confusing to you, but if you leave with me I can create a cover story for you. It can be put in place immediately, and no one will ever know. What I’m trying to say is: if you come with me now, I can bring you to your family, I can show you the truth of who you are, but there will be no turning back. What do you say?”

I pause as my mind begins a slideshow of flash-backs from my life, and how lonely it truly has been. I begin to imagine what my life could look like in 2 years when I reach 18. I’ll probably become a therapist just like Imogen. Knowing that’s not in any way what I want for my life, I lay all the cards on the table with two little words, “I’m in.”

The woman smiles, “So let’s go.” She takes my hand while changing a setting on her watch. The next thing I know, my vision is no longer showing me the garden, but instead some sort of high-tech room that’s shaped like a bubble. She leads me to a bedroom and tells me it’s mine; she asks me to get some rest. Time passes slow as I lay on the bed; I close my eyes and imagine what my parents will be like, what they will look like, if it will be awkward, if I will even like them… if they are even real. ‘What if there’s no such thing as parents and you have just been kidnapped?!’, my mind shouts at me. I shudder and turn onto my side. I toss and turn for hours, yet sleep never takes me. Just as I am finally about to get close to drifting out of consciousness, there is a knock at my door. I jump up and throw myself out of bed to swing the door open. Two tall, lanky, glowing-haired people are now towering over me, only they both have purple hair. The one on the left bursts into tears and pulls me in for an embrace. There is hesitation on my part in returning the gesture, but I quickly realize these are the parents I was told about and I wrap my arms tightly in an embrace. My mother, i hug her.

“We’ve been searching for you for what seems like ages!” my mother cries out, “We almost lost hope after your tenth birthday, but we never gave up. Oh, how the wait was worth it!”

No words form in my mind or leave from out of my mouth, I am frozen.

“This all must seem so strange to you,” my father chirps in, “it all must be so sudden to you, but we are your family. We love you dearly, dearest Ivy, and can't wait to get to know you.”

The sappy moment is over and they lead me to a nearby sofa where we chat for some time. Much is said as I begin to learn countless truths about the world and the real nature of our society. I am astonished at every point, and my jaw drops more than once throughout the conversation. Sure, I am sitting in a literal bubble right now, but what a real bubble society has kept me in! There are thoughts of worry in my mind about Imogen. Sure, she was quite obnoxious in my daily life, but she’s also just one more victim of the vicious cycle our world has fallen into. I take a deep, deep breath, and absorb it all in before heading back to bed.

Once back, I have peace of mind for the first time in a long time. I am feeling safe with my family and have finally learned something other than mental habits and disorders! Just then, I notice a light reflecting off of the mirror in the once dark room… it’s purple. My head lifts up to get a better view: it- is- my- hair!

I am one of them now, and this is only the beginning… and so, my real life begins.