There's a growing prejudice against a girl who claims to talk to the dead. As I dream, I see a childless girl expressing her desire for love and confidence inside a glass house surrounded by selfish reptiles and talking monkeys.My greatest aspiration is to earn the respect of those powerless individuals who believe their lives are worth a fortune. Everybody seems to know my past as if it were trapped in an old vintage glass. The voices in my head remind me of someone who committed a horrific act using poisonous chemicals recently. When I am haunted by nightmares of violence, I long for a soulmate who will listen to my stories, painted in red, as every déjà vu feels like a lost cause. A man who surrenders his dignity to cardboard shadows makes plans like these. Is there any way I can explain to my mother that my spirit was shattered the day these demons created a hidden lab populated by unintelligent humans called people with disabilities?
