Awake


A shadow walks by.

Staring at a window, at myself.

I breathe deep. Everything goes dark.

I open my eyes. I force them open. I know they’re open. But there’s only darkness.

I scream. But it muffles me. I move. But it pins me.

I want to cry. I can’t.

I see myself as I walk away, staring at a window then staring at myself.

I feel the pain, the saw, the scraping, the blood dripping down.

I want to cry. I can’t.

I want to go back to sleep.

About 17% of patients awake during surgery. Some are lucky enough to open their eyes, thus alerting the staff. Some can’t open their eyes. People have referred to the sensation as being “sleeplocked”.

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The Dark Night Rises


And so, as the clock struck midnight, the bullets flew from side to side, bangs deafened the screaming and gunshots muzzled the feared, silencing it for eternity. Twelve people died and fifty-eight are now in hospitals. I can picture myself there, in the emergency room, probably just doing inventory, then the doors blast open and in comes a gurney with a twelve year old boy–two shots to the chest, one to the knee–and the darkest of prognosis.

What happened? I can see myself confused, just rushing to the corner and stepping away from the chaos. I have nothing to do. I want nothing to do with this. It’s obvious, no one has to tell me, I just leave the emergency room and wait for the chaos to subside, which won’t happen tonight, or tomorrow. It will take a couple of months, three perhaps. Then most of society, except for a handful of saddened relatives, will forget until it happens again. And it will.

It will happen because we are too violent and we are happy with it. A crowd cheers an athlete that hits another one, a crowd cheers when a superhero smacks the shit out of the villain—probably a black or Asian enemy—and a crowd cheers when a country wins a war. We are too competitive and we justify success directly with it: we celebrate when our nearest competitor declares bankruptcy since it means more money for us. We are too selfish and we are happy with it. And we are all guilty.

But, strangely, that’s not what worries me. With the amount of people in this world, it was bound to happen. What worries me is this: if we were to tell someone, anyone, within say, a mall, that in the parking lot there are thousands of rounds and rifles, ready to be used at the flick of an “insanity” switch, people would flee, the building would probably be evacuated and abandoned within seconds.

Then why didn’t it happen?

Stricter security measures? Not useful. Social places are ideal for relaxation and tougher active-security measures would render us tenser and, hence, more violent. The idea that suppressing the likelihood of another attack is a thing of the past. Corrective actions shouldn’t happen, especially in this age of technical advances and “the peak of society as we know it”. Maybe passive-security measures will work.

Tougher gun control? Probably will work, though I know many friends with rifles and guns that won’t go on a killing spree. Again, I know many I wouldn’t trust a gun with.

Lesser violence? Surely. After all, humans are formed in their houses.

More education? Definitely.