Tonya’s story
 

“Beyond comprehension: the void in my cranium and the afflictions on my body to smother. There is apparent longing: conscience gropes for freedom only to surrender to the worth of its sale. This cage is involuntary subjugation.“

I used to frequent Cedar Point in Ohio and thoroughly enjoyed the double twisting impulse coaster at a pretty tender age, not anticipating, even in my wildest fantasies, my life becoming one. This is Tonya writing to her inner child imploring for forgiveness, humanness following the 9/11 attacks, engulfing mankind in mere seconds.
 

“Felt like my breath was in clutches, my voice was oppressed, my grief was illegitimate- I was treated more like a number, and less like a person. There is no hope for resurrection: the social structures I hail from are very rigid and the trauma is recurrent. I get commercialized, measured, weighed, labeled everyday, and because of my inability to resist my oppressor, I lose everyday. There is no hope, and light, but there is certainty in knowing that I am not alone. It is never my choice.”
 

“Silence in this enslavement Like a movie

Can’t feel my body
They call it my duty

Nights I can't sleep
when I want to die
Don't expect you to listen
It comes with a goodbye
An everyday story
Cause there is no glory
No hope, no light
They say I wasn’t born to fly
And sadly, it was never my choice”
 

~Talking to her felt like talking to her heart, and her inner child. She is not less, but most certainly more of a person. My dream is to be like her at such a young age. Though she expressed lack of hope, there is most certainly hope for the end of exploitation.”

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