Part 6
Everything is over

It's been a while since I was transferred from prison to a mental hospital. Now I feel better. But inside I'm completely ruined. Life has become meaningless to me.

The blue pills I take every day have made me feel better. There's no longer a voice inside me. I haven't spoken to anyone since I came here. I kept quiet. Maybe this silence is the beginning of my freedom.

Shortly after I arrived, they put me in an electroshock chair. I didn't feel anything after sitting down. I just realized I was unconscious. When I came to my senses, my legs wouldn't move. I had to sit in a wheelchair.

I don't remember much from that moment. Past memories are like a body behind a white curtain. It can't be seen.

The devil says hit and kill until everything burns. Even small and big. How many times have I wanted to kill the person in charge of the chair. But with my disability, I can't.

From the past, all I remember is Yalda's name. I loved her. A clock that always shows 3. I don't remember anything else. I just found out from the case file that I was in prison for killing Yalda's father. Then I wanted to kill someone else in prison. That's why they brought me here.

Now I don't like Yalda. My feelings aren't the same as before. At first, she came to see me once. But it was as if Yalda wasn't there. Someone else was. I just looked at her. I didn't say anything.

Yalda: Bahman, why did you do this? Why did you bring yourself and me to this day? Why did you kill my father? Why?

Yalda: Now you've reached me with these things. I said I love you. I'm talking to my father. Why really?

I only spoke at the end. I said forgive me.

I think she understood. She looked at me. She lowered her head. I turned the wheelchair around. I went to my room.

What I meant by forgive me was a lot. It was summed up in a few words.

My words were: Forgive me, Yalda. If your and my share of life is the sunset.

Forgive me. If this life is a big lie.

Forgive me. For the memories.

Forgive me. If I am not talking about compassion.

Forgive me. If I am not happy like you.

Forgive me. If you do not matter to me.

Forgive me. If I do not forgive you but I say, hold my hand.

Forgive me. If I was not what you wanted in life.

Forgive me. That I will not be what you want tomorrow.

Forgive me. For the lies I did not tell. For the life I did not live. For the moments I did not die.

Forgive me. If I scream, your path is wrong.

Just forgive me.

All my words were summed up in two words: Forgive me.

I am someone who was stubborn to me. They wouldn't let me achieve my goals.

I don't like this boring or ordinary life.

Life has no meaning for me. That's it until the end.

I feel rootless. My life has become a cliché.

Look how quickly the seconds go by. You'll die before you understand what life is.

I know there are people in this city who are tired of repetitive moments and tomorrows like yesterday and people and this dry life.

This life is a bitter dream. That's it.

The TV is a slushy mess in the corner of the nursing home. Sometimes they play educational videos. They want to make people understand that life is beautiful. Behind the TV is a familiar clock. I don't know why.

I wait a long time until it's 3 o'clock. But I don't know why.

The nurses inject sedatives. I calm down. Don't hurt them. I have nothing to do with them. This is my everyday life.

I wish the seconds of this clock could go back. I would go back. I would see what happened. Why am I here?

Now I am a prisoner. It doesn't matter in life or prison or this asylum. Maybe this was my destiny.

A black day. A white day. A day of death. Here I realized that freedom is not guaranteed. It doesn't exist. Freedom has no meaning in sick cells. I lived a free life. Finally, it came to this.

I wish all prisoners had wings. They would be freed. They wouldn't rot in this barricade.

Getting out of here is a lie. Our freedom is summed up in this asylum.

These days I sleep a lot. My eyes are bloodshot. The effects of the damned drugs.

My laughter has taken on a new flavor. It doesn't taste like the hatred of the past. When they take me to my room, I cry alone. I feel special. No one understands. It's as if I'm 100% conscious, but I'm dying.

My feelings are only pain. I don't know what pain is either.

Life doesn't have the same color as before. It's lonelier.

When people around you don't understand you. They don't understand what you're saying. You have to be silent. It's very hard.

No one asks what your pain is.

I just run away. I drown in loneliness. I don't answer anyone.

Life has become like a movie illusion. I live in a comedy. People go to the cinema to laugh.

The tomorrow I imagined melted like snow. It fell on my cheeks. Here they just say it doesn't matter what happened. What matters is that you're alive and you continue.

Death after life. Life after death. The most confusing thing is the difference between good and bad.

I haven't forgotten where I was. I have to forget where I am.

After these dark nights, morning will come.

I hope no one comes to visit you. Even the girl who was in Yalda's place. No one comes near me here. They think silence is the calm before the storm.

I'm bored. I drown in my own words. This world is dead to me. It stinks.

Every day they ask how I'm doing. I just stare. I look back and forth.

I made a white world for myself. It doesn't need any color. Only black.

I walk in the darkness of the night.

The future is uncertain.

The course of life must be followed. No matter how hard you try, it won't change. Life strikes its untuned instrument. It returns to its original place. We are condemned to follow the line of life. It won't stop until it reaches the end.

Life is just this nonsense. It doesn't change.

Yalda has gone home to her life without me. She doesn't think about me.

My life revolves on a wheelchair and these wheels.

I wander here and there like a lifeless doll. Death, which is terrifying to humans, is a blessing to me. It frees me from the evils of the world. I await my death to see where I go.

The environment is not bad. Sometimes they take me to crappy programs. It's not a bad place. I convince myself to endure.

People have to lie to themselves. Pretend everything is normal. But the truth is something else.

Suicide is tainted for me. It doesn't appeal to me. Not out of fear.

I eat whatever junk they give me. They don't put me in the electroshock chair again.

Yesterday someone died in the chair. But they still treat me with this method.

Instead of my inner voice, I found mental friends. I don't talk to them.

One is a fool. He bangs his head against the wall. I don't know why. The nurse gives me an injection. He calms down.

Another one sits cross-legged. He thinks he's Gandhi. He mumbles om om.

The question bothers me. Who am I? What am I doing here? Why did they bring me here?

I don't remember anything. Nothing.

It's worse than hell out here. Only people like me understand.

Every move is monitored. No one can do anything. I remember Meysam attacking the nurse. They gave him morphine. They tied him to a bed. The cage is closed here.

The air turns from gray to black. In gray, we feel bad. There's no hope.

Sometimes I sit in front of the window. I look out from behind the railings.

It's grayer outside. The views are unfamiliar. Here, the border of madness must be changed. It has taken meaning from liberation.

Society pushes me to the margins. It blames you.

Maybe I'm the only bird that migrated from heat to cold.

I choke on anger and despair. I show it with nervous laughter.

Sometimes I have a nervous breakdown. My body shakes. Only the injection calms me down.

The calendar has spit out time. Time doesn't pass. Everything is stuck.

If they put a gun on me, I'd shoot the mirror every day.

Morphine dances in the veins. When truth calms down under morphine. Peace flows through the veins. The clock stops. Time becomes antique. The eternity of time kills a person.

Maybe when problems become too much, people laugh. A fake smile of despair and sadness.