I could feel my anxiety in my body, in my blood, and I no longer fought to escape it. I focused on it and understood it to be energy and that it could be useful to me rather than a hindrance. The room was full of people and soon it would be my turn to speak. I stayed calm and receptive to the growing spirit in me which sought release. I asked my heart what it knew, and told it to my associates. The day would be long and arduous. A cat befriended me. When I got home I made myself a salad and watched Dr. Zhivago. The movie was full of trains and war and winter and romance. People were losing their homes, all in the name of the working man. The doctor was a poet and recognized by a soldier, who told him his work was no longer meaningful, that the time of shared personal intimacies was over. I felt the sting. I came to tears. War is terrible and can make hopeless fools of us all. But stay honest and keep about your work, and you will have life eternal.
I am a new number, now, they faked my initials. I volunteered for another clinical trial to benefit myself and others who suffer from the same autoimmune issue. A stranger stole into my system about a decade ago, and decided to settle down. I made room for them, what choice did I have? They had faked their papers and got through customs unaccosted. They pretty much keep to themselves and haven’t done me much harm all these years. But they like to live contrary to the culture heritage, and have thrown the ecosystem off. After much deliberation — and because they are rooted eradication is not an option — I decided to go for containment. Before the system is gravely disordered. I don’t think it’s too late, I am still in very good condition.
It’s funny how I would become a number in a double blind study, on trial. How I would fake my identity to combat a stranger who did the same to get in.