You can't.
You can't keep me in this chair forever, you can't inject me with food, you can't inject me with sleep, just -
Stop.
Please.
My waking hours are a nightmare, my dreams so much more vivid than I would like. There are screams everywhere, and I don't know if they're mine or somebody else's or if they are even real. Even my hallucinations became irregular, a vortex of laughter and blood boring itself into my forehead every single day.
The sad part is, you CAN. You have the power. You can stick 60 needles in my eyes and ask me what I see.
You do on a regular basis.
 
I don't want to see anymore.
I don't want to feel anymore.
And I can't stop it, I can't shove it back, you removed my denial and my self-control. When I'm scared, I can't function whatsoever because I HAVE to be scared and can't help it. When I'm sad, you have to rehydrate me otherwise my eyes will dry. It would be funny if only I didn't wish I would die already.
 
There used to be a light. There used to be an open door, I remember. I remember laughter and sunlight and green, dewy grass - or do I?
Are those memories even real?
Something tells me I've always been here, in this chair, facing unstoppable terror. This is my life, please end it.
You have the power.
 
(Firefly paste, couldn't help it)