Don’t forget your medication… she taunted. *sigh* the medication never aided, I only implied it did so the doctor believed he was helping me. Strangely it made things worse.
The acrimonious summer breeze danced its way through my bedroom like a tribal ritual. Bellows of deep gusts whistled against the fragile exterior of my enclosure, threatening its way toward my exact location. I staggered towards the open window, wind and rain whipping my short brunette mane in all directions. Grasping for the edges, I struggled to force the frame shut, the rain water making my clutch insufficient. With a force stronger than gravities pull on a falling object, I slammed the window closed, the smack so forceful it shattered the flower vase residing on the sill.
I flew back in astonishment. “Shit,” I muttered. “That’s just what I needed.”
“Colette, are you alright?” my mother called from her bedroom, her imaginary sense of concern almost unidentified in her voice. “I really hope you didn’t break something.”
“Perfectly fine, mom.” I called with as sarcastic a voice as I could manage. “I’m just tripping over some random shit.”
“If you picked up your damn room, you wouldn’t have to worry about tripping,” she spat. Her scrawny head popped into my doorway, the bags residing beneath her eyes darker than bruises. “God damn it, Cole. This is why we can’t have nice things!” she shouted as she motioned toward the broken vase scattered on the carpet.
I let out a heavy groan. “Don’t worry about it, mother. I have everything under control.” I said hurriedly as I ushered her towards her own bedroom. “You look exhausted, go to bed.”
“The hell I am! You know how hard it is for me to try to go back to sleep once I wake up!” she exclaimed.
“Fine, do as you please. I’m just suggesting a nap.”
“A nap I may consider. Pick up your shit while I’m out, I’d hate to ground you again.” She declared as she sauntered back to her bed. I glared back at her in disgust.
I turned around to take a quick survey of my nirvana. Breathtaking paintings covered the walls in all directions, overwhelming any interior design. I allowed the room to breathe. The majority of color resided on the walls. A simple oak dresser sat on the white carpet just a few feet from the door. My bed sat in the opposite region of my dresser, the simple white sheets reflecting the magnificent colors from the bodacious walls. A run down desk was placed directly next to the double bed, my alarm clock and lamp sitting in the left corner. Dirty clothes were scattered in various places, but they could be picked up later. For now, I needed an escape.
Sitting next to the alarm clock was my key to sanity. I seized the little book and plunged onto the bed with my favorite pen in hand. The moment I let the writing utensil’s tip hit the paper, I immediately forgot about all my troubles, the alternate personality, and most of my screw ups. This little book was the key for me to release my natural self.
Words
Awesome. Fantastic. Words say nothing. Why have words? Most of the time, they only hurt. We always put meaning to words. Unnecessary meanings. Gay. That word is misconnected with adjectives meaning “stupid” or “dumb” or “ugly”. I have lost faith in humanity. All from words. We only use words to hurt. Humans are always capable of hurt. We may want to protect, but our instinct is to hurt. To get rid of the enemy. To be the remaining good in a world of bad.
I blinked a few times before closing my bliss. It was Friday, and I was home alone during the summer. The red light illuminating from the alarm clock read five after midnight. “I have no friends, and I have no desire to make some.” I told myself miserably. “Perhaps the wind can sing me to sleep.”
Testing Limits
Start from the beginning
