Personal Memoir

Karime Balderas Ortega

November 21st, 2013

Core One

Personal Memoir

Not Right

I don’t know…something doesn’t feel right. It’s not my change of music, it’s not my change of  style, its my change of heart. To become happy I’ve had to change the way of thought. I did it so easily, and I didn’t care much about it. To me it came as simple as we take a shower daily. I just want to be happy. I don’t want to live when I'm always sad, but I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I’ve had enough of that… I just want to live. I don’t want to be trapped, I don’t want to be unhappy. Can someone hear me out already? Can I be let out already? I’ll stay in my state of mind for today, or as long as I can…

It’s come to the point where I can’t do this anymore. I can’t hide it anymore… I’m happy as far as I’m concerned but I don’t want to be happy this way. Please, I want to breathe for a while. No, no, I need to breathe. I’ve been a year like this, possibly more. It’s just not right. I know I should be used to this, but being this, being fake, it’s not right. It’s more comfortable the other way, the old way. I’m just asking for someone, anyone to feel my heart. Why can’t someone see that it’s not me? Or are they used to me already? If I scream, what may happen?

Since the time I screamed I was sent away… the knew. Yet they didn’t care, they just didn’t and I’m crying as write this. I don’t understand where it went wrong. I think this constantly, I do know that it went wrong when I changed. From that day there was always something in my head telling me “ It’s not right,” it’s been rising higher and higher. To this day it’s a scream. I can’t tell anyone, they’ll keep me here longer. I’ll just wait the day to come, when I’m set free.

206… 206 marks the days I’ve been here. No, no, that’s not right. These white walls don’t help...

They say I might be ready to go. They see no real improvement. It’s all fake smiles, fake laughs, and fake, fake, fake! The voice in my head now say’s “It’s not right… It’s fake!” It appears less often now, but that’s something I keep to myself. There’s no need to acknowledge the voice. It’s just another bother. Right? No! No! No! That’s not right either! Ugh! Forget it, nothing will be right again.  

600 days… 600 days I was in there. They finally let me go. Thank God. Some people are there to meet me. I ask them all why, why didn’t they take me out, why they even let me be placed there in the first place, why they didn’t visit me. They all told me the same response, “We love you, but something didn’t seem right…” They drifted off into silence. There wasn’t anything I could do that day or for the rest of my life. I would just smile . . . till I get sent back.