He has never been normal, so he doesn't know if this is right. His actions have indeed become slower and slower. His brain seems to have turned into a cage.
When he first came here, he was very uncomfortable with this place. This is a mental hospital, an insane asylum. People in there always shouting and screaming, and people always doing inappropriate things.
Dex doesn't know how long it took him to get used to these things. Maybe he never really got used to them. He just became numb.
In the third year after coming here, Dex hadn't wear any restraint facilities. He isn't aggressive and hasn't the possibility to kill others. Dex has become a part of this mental hospital. His muscles have atrophied, his expression is listless. He sits quietly on his bed, staring blankly out the window. he could take three months to wait for a leaf to fall, and then used a whole day to understand the difference between black and white.
The nurse's face rolled past his eyes, and he had to take a while to focus his eyes to see a small mole between her eyebrows. He ate less and less, his hands and feet weren't agile, his movements lost their confidence and strength. Dex lost thirty pounds, he was a shriveled fruit pit.
There was a photo pasted on Dex's bed. It was a picture of an adult human male.the man about thirty,with firm eyes and broad shoulders exposed. Dex wondered who that person was and why his photo was left here. One evening, he asked the nurse about this.
The man irritably said, "That's you, Pointdexter."
Many times he didn't know how to explain. He moved more and more slowly, and sometimes had to rely on the help of nurses to finish some things. Dex didn't know how to explain to them that in fact he wasn't really here.
Yes, Dex was here, being grabbed and pushed around by them, but in reality Dex wasn't here. He was in a whirlpool, in the middle of a hurricane. He was indeed standing here, but he wasn't here.his body in there ,his mind had lost.
It was in a mess all around. Dex hated mess. He loved an orderly, stable, and tidy life, but here it was Dex who had made this mess. It was all because Dex wanted to build blocks. He sat there and spent the whole night putting circles on top of circles and squares on top of squares. He was almost successful, but when he stood up, his foot ruined everything.
For two consecutive days, Dex hadn't eaten anything. The only dream he'd had was of Julie's death. He was receiving treatment here. He had never been normal, so Dex didn't know what this period of time meant. Perhaps it was the cocooning of a butterfly, some kind of necessary rebirth. Maybe when he woke up, opened his eyes, his body would become light. He believed he could get better, as long as he continued with the treatment, took the medicine, and followed all the prescribed routines.
He loved this world. He wanted to become a normal person,free,normal,happy.
This is the only thing he want.Although he didn't know what love actually was, nor what a normal person was.
On the sixth year of being here, Dex dreamed of his parents. Their faces had become blurred in the passage of time. Dex didn't even have a single photo with his parents to remember them by. He thought his parents must have loved him very much, but they had both been taken away by death, just like death had taken Mercer and Julie.
Is it really true?
Did Dex really have parents who love him very much?
Maybe it is. I hope it is.
His time has been shattered. Hours seem to pass faster than minutes. He has to try his best not to be swallowed up by the whirlpool of minutes. When he looks up, another day has passed.
He hasn't hates, because in the end, he would only hate himself. He longs for love, for hugs, for being treated specially by someone. He believes that one day, he will get better. One day, those unsolvable emotions and pains will leave him. On that day, he won't have to lie anymore, won't have to pretend anymore. Love and happiness will come to him, and he can become the child favored by God.
Maybe that day will come the day after tomorrow's tomorrow.