We all have quirks that make us who we are. Adam chews his nails. Jessica always plays with her hair. No one ever calls them "weird" or "freak" like they call me. Just because of my special little quirk.
Ever since I was born, I had a desire.. No... A NEED for everything in my life to be perfectly symmetrical. When I was three, I arranged all the toys in my room so that I'd have seven stuffed animals, four toy trains, eleven blocks, and three action figures on each side. Then, my mom bought me a new teddy bear. It's soft, warm fur was complimented by its big blue eyes. But these features didn't distract me from the fact that my toys couldn't be perfectly symmetrical anymore, so I did what any sensible three year old would do. I went to the kitchen and grabbed a nice, sharp knife. I sliced the bear in half, careful to keep both sides the same size, and put one on each side of my room.
As I grew older, my need for symmetry remained the same. I keep the dirty dishes in the left sink and the clean in the right. I make sure to keep the same number of knives and forks and plates and bowls in each.
And my bookshelf, ohhh, my bookshelf. Each shelf has the same number of books on each half, and the colors of the books mirror the other half as well. Perfect.
Only, one part of my life lacks symmetry. My eye. My left eye, originally matching the shade of blue of my right, is now permanently red, ever since I was hit by a stray baseball when I was seven. Looking in a mirror fills me with so much rage and disgust I can hardly contain it! I can fix anything, make it perfect; anything but myself. And for the past fifteen years, I've dealt with it; the blemish in my perfect life.
But no more. No more! Today, I take control of my life! I rush to the kitchen and grab a pair of scissors and a cold silver spoon with such haste that I almost forget to rearrange all the utensils. Emotions should never overcome rational thinking, of course!
I calmly grab a mirror with my right hand and the spoon in my left. I slowly, ceremoniously, raise the silver spoon to my left eye, my imperfection, my goddamned nightmare! And I slowly slide it behind my eye. I scream at first, but grind my teeth through the agony as I use the instrument to lever my curse from its container. After a series of cracks and snaps that I hear deep within my head, a satisfying pop. Retribution is close at hand, and I waste no time snipping the red cord dangling the eye from my socket.
The satisfaction is short lived though. I inspect my righteous act in my mirror only to realize that I am still imperfect. My accursed eye had left its mark. I drop the mirror and lunge for the warm red spoon and jam it behind my right eye. This time is much more painful, and I lever the eye out with both hands.
As my second eye pops out, I drop the spoon and hear it splash in the puddle bellow my face as I fumble around feeling for my scissors. Finding them, I attempt to snip the cord to end the torment, only to have the blades slip, sending unimaginable pain directly into my brain as it pinched the nerves. I grasped the viscera with both hands and tug. The agony is almost unbearable, but finally...
I am perfect.
