INSANITY

insanity | screaming

    The dark grey clouds loomed over me as I sat in the town of Stillwater. My hands ran over the wooden bench and found a familiar ridge in the wood. My finger then made small circles as I stared off into space, not caring for anyone around me. What a peculiar name, Stillwater.

     It describes the town nicely, as everyone is very ordinary. The town is quiet, like the perfect town in a storybook. But any perfect town has secrets, as all do. I guess one secret is me, but I don't matter much. So instead of thinking about my secret, I look for others secrets.

     A bright, pink, long woollen jacket caught my eye, what happy clothes in a sad, dreary season. I looked at everyone around, bland colours, yet they still had in-trend clothing. My eyes slowly drifted to my ripped up jeans that someone might have thought was a cute trend; if they weren't so dirty and stained. I'm wearing a thick long sleeved shirt and an old puffy (most definitely unattractive) jacket, the only outfit I have.

   At least I am warm.

     The skin of my index finger still tracing the ridge in the old wood, I watched the people walk by. For once, their lives seem intriguing to me. I never had the best life, after running from my fate when I was a small child, so I was always very angry when I saw people walk by in their perfect clothes and perfect faces and perfect lives. For some reason today is different, and I tried to imagine what is going through their heads. They don't know how I got here, so they probably think I was 16 and pregnant.

     My dark grey eyes glazed over as I thought of my mother. She was a kind woman, I have almost forgotten what she looked like. I frowned at the thought. I had grown accustomed to living as I do know because of her so I should hate her, but I know there isn't much she can do for me when she's dead.

     Mother died from a house fire. My dad was a drunk, a mean abusive drunk to be specific. He never went far with my mum or me (I was lucky for that), but he still hit us. One night he got drunk again and decided he was cold in our small three room house. So he did what most people would do and lit up the fire.

     I remember the flames, licking the walls and testing where they would shoot out to next. The orange and red and yellow, as if a sunset went insane. I always was fascinated by fire. The beauty of it all. But in the moment, the fire climbing the place I had to call home, it seemed like a nightmare.

     The fire is all I can recall. The rest is a blur, though I know I had gotten out safe. To this day I claim I don't know what happened to my mother, but I have a feeling I do. The only thing that my mind chooses for me to see is the fire because my mind is its own person and I am simply its meat suit.

   My mind tells me what to do, and since it is the only person I talk to, we fight a lot.

     Sometimes it's only small fights. Other times, I flip, screaming with migraines. I call it punishment. Others seem to call it insanity. I've gotten used to mothers and fathers crossing the street so that they don't have to walk by me with their children. At least the parents care for their child, a luxury I never had.

     Sighing, I placed my chin onto my palm. I sat in silence, A rare thing that happens. No migraines, no people, no cars. The rush hour has passed, for now. My hearing seemed to intensify as I heard a distant bell ring, it was the high school behind me. That's okay. Sometimes the students give me food.

    'That happened once you idiot, no one likes you.'

     I sighed again, the voice was back, screaming in my head. Not even a minute later a lullaby tune started singing.

   'I-I scream. Yo-ou scream. We a-all scream. Because we're terrified.'

{Edited}