Manus Prison Theory

“I care about you.”

“You are important to me.”

“Your identity matters.”

“We are all struggling to find our identity in this mess we call the world.”

These are the words of schizophrenics, drug abusers, criminals.

The mentally ill fall into this category, grouped together under the umbrella of strangeness. The void. There is no hope here, no life, no light. That is what we are told, made to feel, shown the bottom of someones shoe, time and time again, covered with grime, dirt, and gum.

Disgusting.

We don’t want you to tell your stories. We don’t want you to tell us what you think.

It’s not important. It’s not real.

We are the ones who can support each other, the ones who actually do. We ride the waves of our cognition, emotionally, devastatingly true, honest, and open. Laughing and living as if no one could tell us we’re wrong. Because we are not wrong. We have value. We have power. We have place, origins, families, lives to be lived.

Here: A letter for you to sign, making sure no one will find out about your terrible affliction.

Because they don’t want to know. We’ll make sure that they won’t. Just sign right here. We will take over for you, that’s right, your life. Managed.

What if I can’t be managed. Don’t want to be, want to be open, empathetic, vocal, and proud of my “affliction.” This gift that I have been given and that I have promised those voices in my head that I won’t waste.

We don’t waste thoughts. We don’t waste time. Our lives are valuable. Our lives have meaning.

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