Perhaps an elaboration is needed to understand the origins of this feeling of guilt. This is how I saw my life, it may be hard for some to hear, but it is my own experience. My birth is mysterious because my parents are unknown. Supposedly, the year of my birth is around 275XX. They found me in January of that year but gave me a birthday in October. The place I lived had multiple tall white buildings that were placed in the shape of a rectangle. I had no idea what the other buildings were for but the area I lived was on the bottom floor of one of those buildings. The space had concrete floors that somehow looked like wood. The walls were greyish. There were a couple of windows in one room and another window in another room.

There were other areas like the common area, with stiff foam mats scattered all over the place. It was a big open space where the kids would lay around and do nothing, pretty much. There was a bathroom, bedroom a place to eat and a changing area for the babies. The eating area was big enough to fit lines of tables. It had white walls, white everything, even the tabletop except the table legs which were dark grey. When it was time to eat, the kids would sit on each side of the table. There was barely enough room for elbows.

I recall the bathroom vividly because it was different than any other room I have been in. The bathroom walls were painted dark blue yet somehow there were various colors splashed all over it, green, purple, yellow, including the bathtub. The pattern was ugly, and my small brain could not understand who the heck would paint the bathroom this way. The inside of the tub had a hump, I did not understand why it was there. It was tan even though the outside looked like the rest of the bathroom. Instead of the typical shower head that hangs, our bathroom had a long silver hose.

In the bathroom there was no distinguishing between the boys and the girl’s side. We did not have the typical toilet. We had to use the kids training toilet. I always wondered where the adults went to the bathroom because I never saw a place for them. My bedroom does not even belong to me. The room was big enough to house multiple cribs and barely big enough for caregivers to walk around the room.

For as long as I can remember, my early days were normal, at least that is what I thought. My routine was to wake up, eat and lay around all day doing nothing. I would watch other kids play, some could walk, and some were like me. I can not recall how I felt during that time even though I noticed the difference in the size and function of the kids and how mobile some of them were. To an outsider it may seem mundane, but that is what I know.