They say I only fell about five feet. I don't remember the details, but I know I went over the banister of the stairs at the school when I was 15. We looked at the medical report afterward. We're both interested in the event, probably for different reasons.
Yes. I said "we."
I remember waking up that night. First there was the sharp smell of antiseptic, and then the sound of the respirator, and then I knew I was soaked in sweat and chilled straight through, and I was staring at my mother. I didn't open my eyes. They were already open, and I just... I just began to see through them. Mother had been crying for hours, and I tried to tell her it was all right - that I was all right. But I discovered I couldn't move - not even those eyes of mine. They say that's uncommon. Usually, when you get this way you can communicate through blinking. But I was totally locked in. Trapped in my body, completely aware, but paralyzed. And then soon I realized I wasn't alone in there.
My parents told me - told us - that our recovery was "miraculous." People don't usually get out of bed and go back home a week after what happened to me. They almost always show some signs of lingering impairment. Something. But I was - like father said - "good as new." My mother occasionally asked me if I felt okay in the months that followed. Sometimes I'd catch her staring at me with a question in her head, something she didn't want to put into words. But eventually she stopped. The family kept the incident out of the press. You won't find out about it.
I was definitely good as new.
Someone had crawled into my brain, the parts I could no longer use, slipping into my hands and my legs like putting on a suit. Slipping into the space behind my face, wearing me like a mask. And now that person walks around, talking to people, doing things, and making decisions for both of us. I can't control it. I can't tell anyone. And at the moment, we're the Republican front-runner in the 2016 presidential primary.
Yes, we are Donald Trump. Both of us. Until that day it was just me. And I was quiet and shy, I loved reading, and I wanted to be a painter. I had this idea that I was going to be different than what my family expected of me. I was going to be good.
Now, every day I do awful things. I have no choice. I see people react - I see them flinch in surprise and disgust whenever I insult them, or when I look at women like... it's disgusting what I do. I say something mean-spirited and stupid, and they're glaring at me like I did it, and I want to scream at them that I'm innocent, but I can't. And the Other Guy here in the dark with me, the guy at the controls... Somehow I can tell he's chuckling. He laughs at what we do. He's always laughing inside.
Whenever we walk near heavy traffic, I concentrate as hard as I can to throw ourselves in front of the cars. When we stand close to a balcony, I find myself studying our hands, trying to get them to vault us over the edge. It does nothing.
I'm sorry everybody.
You know how you wish you could be rid of Donald Trump? You know how he seems to get away with hideous behavior, how it seems like his bloated face - pockmarked and sallow from a lifetime of bad decisions - is on all the screens around you, looking at you, and yelling at you from everywhere, and no matter what sick prank or vicious lie he experiments with next, you feel as though no one will ever stop him, and he'll be with you forever?
You have no idea what that's really like. But if he wins next November... I don't want to tell you everything he's got planned, but believe me, you'll get a taste.
Ben Carson's Syria Solution: Use The Money Spent On 'Halloween Candy' To Pay For Refugee Camps - [image: Ben Carson's Syria Solution: Use The Money Spent On 'Halloween Candy' To Pay For Refugee Camps] GOP presidential hopeful Ben Carson argued over the...