The Truth

‘’You are sick’’ was whispered in the microphone of yet another meeting.

It was as if their eyes were cutting my soul – at least what I had left of it.

We were all here for the same reason – but we approached our problems in a different way.

It had been three months.

‘’Who’s next?’’ shouted the plump lady in the navy blue uniform.

A boy, about twenty, walked up to the stage in an awkward strut.

It was obvious he was nervous and could not form the words he had pre rehearsed while observing others at the stand before him.

“Why are you here?” exclaimed a man, sitting just a few seats away from the rest of us.

The boy stood with his head facing the floor. His shoes looked like a temporary thought refugee.

Silence.

Seconds seemed like minutes before the man repeated his question.

“Why are you here?” he snarled.

It had been three months.

The boy started sweating immensely and seemed as if he was about to cry.

“Do you want to do this the hard way, son?” asked the man in the dark green suit.

“No, please, don’t! I beg you, please!” whimpered the boy, as he unconsciously fell to his knees.

The hard way was the truth, you see. That’s what they told us.

The hard way was the proof of our disobedience to the laws of their society. That’s what they told us.

The hard way was humiliation in the eyes of their family. That’s what they told us.

“Next, please.” exclaimed the navy blue uniformed woman as she sent the previous boy off to the infamous ‘Room Of Truth’.

The man and woman in the uniform swapped some conversation before deciding to call up another one from our lot.

“This will be the last one for today.” I heard them both agree as they rummaged the crowd for yet another ‘’lost soul’’.

“You.” said the woman with an emotionless glance as she selected a girl in the front row.

It had been three months.

She made her way up to the pedestal and looked across the room.

There was a bright light from the projector that revealed the Truth of each person there.

“Well?” echoed the demanding voice of the man “tell us why you are here”.

“I am here because I have committed a crime against my nature” said the girl. “The last time I was out there, 

I wasn’t being true to my Maker. I was selfish and needed to get help with my condition”.

“What precisely was your condition, Miss?” asked the man in a slow but clear voice.

“I – I.. " stuttered the girl as she started clenching her fists tightly. She looked me directly in the eye as if she was crying for help.

It had been three months.

“She didn’t have a condition” I shouted, as I felt adrenaline rush through my body and shake from frustration.

“You have a condition” I continued as I looked the man and woman almost ready to send me to the ‘Room Of Truth’ once again after three months.

“You make us feel inferior and ashamed to be who we are. You punish us for not behaving the way you deem as morally and stereotypically appropriate. You torture us with images of people we will never get to hold again, to kiss again, to laugh with again; of places we will never get to see the view of again; of music we can only faintly remember. You are the prisoners – not us. Your souls are tightly shut by the bars of ignorance and of empty aspiration which come from feeling superior through the phenomenon of no change.”

“To the ‘Room Of Truth’?” said one of the guards this time.

I spared them the distance and walked towards them with outstretched hands.

“What’s it going to be to forget about the truth out there this time? More medication?” I asked as the guards held my arms tightly, leading me towards the room.

In the room I entered there was a single seated sofa and a tv screen with a sign above that read ‘The Truth’.

The screen stayed white until I saw black and realized I was suddenly free.

Free from ‘The Truth’.

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