-Pegacorn

[Words to image/creative process.

I find great pleasure in taking an image and putting a story to it. Not just any story but the one my mind asks me to write.

•1st, I actively search online for images that capture my attention. If I roll past it quickly, I completely let it go. If it pauses me in my tracks for a good long stare, I download it and then send them to a folder of possibilities. When you know, you know. At this moment, I have no story, no idea, no concept, nothing. I simply store it away for later.

•2nd, when I am ready, I will peruse the entries until 1 particular image calls out to me. I do not choose on a whim, it chooses me. It stands out more so than the others, for whatever reason. Why? Why ask why? It doesn't matter. A moment of spontaneity, the same as the pre downloads. This is my picture.

•3rd, I look at the image and listen for the words to speak to me. I never try to force a story onto it, I simply listen to my thoughts and see it for how it makes me feel in this very moment. It would be easy to write it in an obvious manner, but my thoughts desire more substance than what would appear typical. I run with it and see which rabbithole it takes me down. Ultimately, I do this for me. I feel the magic occurs in the process of creation, regardless of whether or not anyone likes it. That moment is where my mind is fed. That moment is where its challenge is accepted. This is my latest challenge]

It's been so long since I've heard my own voice, I don't even remember what it sounds like. All I know is it's feminine. I listen to it (inside my head) but it has no vibration at all. It only sounds girly to me because of my previous statement. I attribute the gender to it.

As to any inquiry of my parents, my only one is the state. I was awarded to it farther back than my

mind can reach. Perhaps it has something to do with the demon that lives inside my bones. They are weak but the demon is strong. It has ruled over me forever.

They wheel me out onto the grounds and perch me up atop an old stump ... and then leave me. For hours I will sit and think of wonderful, glorious things. Everything that is not here. Places where I can run and dance. Gardens with bright colorful flowers that sway in the breeze and always seem to lean my way when they hear me sing. Places where I never hear the words 'stupid' or 'burdensome.' It's much easier to insult someone who cannot speak back.

But if they only knew me. If they did, they would know that I longed for different clothes. Anything with color. My mind is far from the darkness they wrap me If they only knew me, they would know that I'm rainbow and floral and paisley. My thoughts are not flavored like black licorice alone, but strawberries and coconut, bananas and even pistachios. If they only knew.

My voice cannot save me. My feet cannot free me. My hands cannot drag me away. My only freedom lies within my thoughts. They lift me up, take flight, and I soar away from the dreadful prison.

am more than what you think. More than the image of what you see. I am more than 'simple minded.' I am a Pegacorn. A mind as rare as the infamous unicorn and thoughts that fly higher than the bravest Pegasus. They call me Patient #426, but my name is Amelia. I only know this because this is what I chose. If they only knew.