I am normal. I am most certainly not different. Nothing is wrong with me. No matter how many times I repeat this over and over again, I can't help but know it's a lie. I'm a lie. Life itself is a lie. It's a liar. I'm a liar. We're all liars. The thing standing by my fourth bed post wasn't really there, the shadows on the walls aren't really shaped like the silhouettes of children, nothing is touching me. Lies. I can hear them, can hear snippets of conversations many summers past.
"It's because you don't listen to me anymore, Henry..."
"Shut up douche, Mel is in the room,"
"How do you know she can even hear..."
It's hard to block them out. They're everywhere - whoever they are.
"Alison I want you home by three,"
"Come here, come,"
"Are you listening to me?"
"Can you help me miss?"
I don't know if it's part of some age old chatter, or if they know I can hear them. If they are watching me while my fingers fly across the keyboard and type in these words. The truth is, I don't know if I can even help myself. I've always been a spunky child, always ready to learn, eager to please and makeup games. I don't recall too many strange things happening to me in my early years, nothing major. I was rather clumsy, but I do remember this one time, when I was around seven or so, that our old house was being renovated so the staircase railing was taken out.
It was after dinner and my two year old brother, Jacob, was standing by the stairs. Just standing there, staring into nothing. It wasn't until I had made an advance on him and had my hands on his shoulders that I realized what I was doing, but it was too late. Jacob was rolling down the stairs like a slinky - chink, chink, chink. I stared horrified as he barreled into the stone elephant statue we had close to the bottom landing. I don't know what happened, it was like my body wasn't mine anymore, like I couldn't control it if I wanted to.
It was a deja vu moment, like it had happened once before. My brother was fine and unscathed and remains nice and healthy to this day - although the more I watch him, the more I'm finding he is like me (I will elaborate in a different story). I made rules from that day on, rules to live by. Rule one, don't hurt yourself and others. Rule two, help make your existence easier on the world, carry your own burden. Rule three, keep the facade up, build upon what you already have. Make the wall thicker.
I've been building on the wall for sometime but now that I'm thirteen, I feel raw. Hallow. Like all my insides have crumbled and burned to the ground. Ash. For nearly six years - six sweet, sweet calm and peaceful years - things have been alright. I was the happy-go-lucky, smart, courteous black haired black eyed loud girl. The one who made friends easily and made people gravitate towards without trying because of her wholesome, positive yellow aura.
It's not like that anymore. At least, I know and feel it's not like that anymore. I don't want to make my parents or friends worry, don't want my chocolate covered coat to peel away to reveal the raisin inside. Lately I've been feeling drained, like the positive energy has gone, and what has come with the tired days has come long nights and the headaches. And the voices.
"Shut up and get into the car Mig,"
"You can't stay like this forever, it'll end soon,"
"How could you, Beth?! Why would you..."
"Listen to me."
I don't want to, but I can't help it. I have to listen, have to watch. Sometimes the voices are quiet, little whispers in the back of my cranium, at other times it's more than just static feedback - its deafening and is the equivalent of the roaring rapids and whitecaps of Niagara Falls. It gives me headaches. Its not only while I'm conscious that these occurrences happen, I dream of them as well. Day after day, night after night. I dreamed of the end, of the beginning...of strangers. Just the other night I woke to lights similar to a miniature Aurora borealis. Yellows, light oranges, cerulean blues and violets. Surrounding my bed and room, swirling, dancing, laughing.
I don't know what I am. What I can be labeled as or what I can be labeled as not. Its confusing and disorienting, the stories posted by all of you are so...other worldly. I don't know anymore if I'm going insane - if its all in my head - or if what's happening is really real. I've tried convincing myself that whatever wasn't true. That it was all a lie like most things should be, but I know that that is just another lie. My gut says; yes! You are seeing this, it's all true! Logic says; you're insane! This sort of thing isn't possible, you've been reading too many horror and supernatural novels and watching one film too many lately. Your a crazy little squid. My head says I need a kit kat. That I need a break. That everyone just needs to shut up and quiet down for a while.
I know a little bit about the art of divination - a bit of each subcategory - and what not. Don't get me wrong, I'd fail a pop quiz about the subject if you pulled one on me, but I understand most PSI and ESP things related. I know about the third eye. I've never seen a real psychic, although there is a psychic fair that takes place in my town in the Holiday Inn every now and then every year. I've always had a pull towards the paranormal, but try not to be too absorbed. I don't want to lose sight of reality, but the more I think about it, what is reality? How do we know we are or aren't alive? Do the voices mean I'm psychic, or mentally unstable? I need help with this whole... acceptance thing. I don't want to believe, but I do.
I lie to myself to make the rest of the world see me as who I want the rest of the world to see me as. My facade is wavering and I'm not so sure of my state of mind anymore. Any suggestions as to how to make the volume of the voices to lower would be welcome. I don't know if I'd want them to disappear, though, I've grown fond to the non-silence. Maybe there's something I can carry around, like a crystal or symbol of some sort? An incantation? Harry Potter hocus pocus aside, I would like to learn more. How to...grow -sort of (?) - and expand my horizons. How to tell the 'lie' and the 'liar' apart. Is it wrong to lie, to tell myself that this is just a phase and I'm just experiencing extreme amounts of paranoia? Or is it wrong to feel the need to accept the 'normal' for those who hear and see the same as a living breathing community separate from the rest of the world?
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