literature

Inside My Head

Deviation Actions

Published: Nov 6, 2010

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Literature Text

_{I wake up, the image is blurry. Everything's misplaced. There are circles of light diverging through the shutters. Blurry. I grab my glasses, put them on then I look where my clock is. I fix it, it's not in place. It never is. I realize I woke up two minutes late. Frustrated. I need to wake up on time. I'm never on time.

I go to the bathroom, wash my face three times. After I'm done, I brush my teeth. I spit three times. I go back to my room. Tidy my bed. It's never tidy. It doesn't look even. It never does. I crumble on the floor. Everything's misplaced. I hold my head tightly between my shaky hands as if it would make everything okay.

It's time to go out. I go out, firmly closing the door behind. No, I'll go back. I need to check if I locked the door. It's locked. I walk away. No, I need to go back. I think I've left my straightener on. I open the door, everything looks fine. I go out and close the door. I walk away. I must check if I've closed the door well. Maybe someone will rob the house. I can't let anyone steal my stuff. I go back and make sure the door is locked. It is locked.

Did I lock the door well?
I'm sure I did. Everything's okay.
No, someone will get in.
No, it's fine.

1... 2... 3...

I walk on the street. I like the street. It has no colored tiles. I can walk freely. People stare at me. Why are people staring at me? Is it because of my hair? Am I wearing the wrong clothes? I keep walking. The wind blows my hair in different directions. No, it's not in place. It's not in place. I stand somewhere where no one can look. I fix my hair. Every lock needs to be in place. There, perfect. I continue walking. The wind blows my hair. It's not in place. It's not in place. It's not...

1... 2... 3...

I go home. I knock. Three times. No one answers. I can't knock again. That would be four times. Four is bad. I knock again. Seven times now. Seven is perfect. I like threes and sevens. Mom opens the door. I get in. I jump from a carpet to the other. I can't touch the floor. There's a big space between the first carpet and the other. I try to jump. My left foot touches the floor. That's not right. Nothing's right. I place my other foot in the same spot for a second. Now they're equal. I go back. I jump again. I make it. I go to my room. My bed doesn't look right again. Why? My desk. My books. I tidy everything. Perfect.

No.

It never is. It never is. It never is.

Three times. No, still doesn't sound right.

1... 2... 3...

I will try again.

It never is. It never is. It never is. It never is.

Seven times. That's better. No.

4... 5... 6... 7...

It's not perfect. It's not. It's not. It's not.

I crumble on the floor. I lie there for a while. It's not right. It's not perfect. It's eating me up inside. I can't shake the thoughts off. My thoughts are not organized. Just like my speech. My words aren't perfect. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Thinking is bad. It brings bad images into my head. I feel guilty. I didn't want to kill them in my head. I didn't want to see these brutal images. I cry. I'm bad. Nothing's right.

1... 2... 3...

I go to bed. I can't sleep. I need to follow the routine or I won't sleep. Side first, then stomach. There... I should be able to sleep. Then...

1... 2... 3...
4... 5... 6... 7...}