I cannot say when it started really, it has always been there, always been within my grasp, and from the time I was little I could go there.

I never understood why going there always upset my parents. I tried as hard as I could to ignore it, the wonder, the beauty, the fear, but alas, that never worked. If I didn’t go, it would come for me.

There are people there too, just like there are here, only the people there are… different.
There are the nice ones; they would always take me to the most amazing places. They didn’t really have bodies, these nice people, well at least not what you’d call ‘normal’ homo-sapien bodies.

You could only make out an outline as they seemed to just flow through the air, like vapour, they seemed to be made of faint white smoke and were without legs, only their upper bodies were visible, the rest was just white smoke that would trial into nothingness.

Then there is the other people, they are mean, rough and scary. They would tell me to do things to people, mean things. They are huge and have very well-built bodies. They would grab me, put their hands on my throat and then they would squeeze, squeeze until I fainted.

They would show up whenever they pleased and I couldn’t make them leave like I could the nice ones, my efforts to make them go would be either ignored or refused. They would start shoving me, taking hold of my arms and shaking me violently.

I tried, I tried to physically force them to leave me alone, I’d scream and use any object that I could find; sticks, pillows, to try and hit them with so they would leave. I’d even throw things at them, but then these hands would appear from out of nowhere and take hold of my arms and force my wrists together.

I would try kicking and screaming at them to let me chase the other people away, but they, these hands, would only take hold of my legs and tighten their grip.
These were the bad times. There were good times too, these were just amazing…

I remember this one time, the nice ones woke me up at night and took me into some place, they called it Inordia.

It was so beautiful; I have never seen such lush green plantations, flowers of every kind, in every colour imaginable, and the waterfalls… the magnificence of it all.

Everything there seemed to respond to my touch, whatever I touched would either change colour or make a movement. Even the sky looked different there, it was a pale lilac. It changes too, the nice ones informed me. I had never felt so… Accepted, it was dazzling.

I was still dazed when the nice ones led me up a mountain cliff that had a waterfall. It fascinated me, the colour of the mountain, it looked a sort of pale purple that would morph into delicate pink, then blue and the back to purple again. I was led right up to the very top of the hill, but I had to constantly ask the nice ones to wait for me because I could not fly like them.

When we finally got up there I was overwhelmed by the beauty of Inordia, I could see the stretch of land brought to life by fascinating colour, I saw the most gigantic trees, streams with water that was so pure it sparkled.

I felt the cold wind on my face, I smiled and stretched my arms sideways, I have never felt such freedom. The nice ones looked at me and smiled too, they stretched their arms sideways like me and let themselves fall into the waterfall. They looked so beautiful, so graceful….

So I let myself fall into the waterfall as well.
Such a rush, I felt the water on my skin and I started to laugh, then I hit the water and everything went black.

They say I climbed all the way to the top of our flat building and jumped. The building is 16 floors high. I tried to tell them that that isn’t what happened, that it was a cliff with a waterfall. That the nice people took me there, but that only made my mother cry.

“You are special my Darling”, my mother told me, “you aren’t like most people”. You know I’ve always told you this, I have always encouraged your wonderful imagination, but I fear that may not have been the best approach, it is my fault you are hurt and for that I am terribly sorry. But I am going to try and make this better. We have gotten you some medication. It will make everything better.”

My mother started giving me these pills, she said that they would make the other people go away, that it would make Inordia and the nice people go away. I didn’t want Inordia to go, I loved it there, no one looked at me funny there. But my mother said that Inordia wasn’t real, that I was just making it up.
I didn’t want the pills if they would make Inordia go away, but I took them because it made my mother happy, it everyone else happy.

And for a long time after that. I didn’t see Inordia or any of its people. I had to take the pills twice daily.

Inordia became like a dream long forgotten. I could now go to school and “mingle with my peers” but most of them would avoid me like I had the plague, some of them would point at me and call me crazy. I didn’t understand why this life was supposed to be better than Inordia, but everyone seemed more at ease if I couldn’t see Inordia anymore. Sometimes I’d cry and pray, hoping to go back to Inordia but for as long as I took those pills, it didn’t exist. I never thought I’d ever see Inordia again, until that one night.

The nice people woke me up, like they loved doing in the past. They seemed so excited, they said they missed me, I was thrilled because I missed them too. They told me that they were throwing a party for me in Inordia and I had to be there. So I got out of bed, I knew that mom and everyone would be upset if they found out but I was tired, tired of pretending that that wonderful place didn’t exist, tired of being “normal”, whatever that meant, I just wanted to be me, to feel free, to go out and dance and laugh and not have anyone stare at me. I wanted Inordia.

They asked me to hurry, everyone was waiting for me. I was a little hesitant but the nice people assured me it was fine. So I took a deep breath and stepped into Inordia.


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