This Isn't Insanity

Chapter One

My mind is a dark, loud and beautifully difficult place. My words and dreams are paints upon an ever so open canvas that I simply can not explain. Except my problem is I choose to stay silent and I always will. Therapist after Mental doctor has tried to get me to let such words roll off my tongue but I will not allow it, I will stay silent until the stars cry acid or my days fail. Whatever comes first. I have my reasons, like you have yours, how would you like it if I asked you why you always brush your teeth left to right and never up and down? There see? Unnecessary questions with unnecessary answers that no one cares towards.

I missed my brother,Frank. He used to sit at the end of my bed and play guitar after he came home from school while I drew. You see I never went to school, well for very long , I skipped about three grades at a time because of my brain level being so extensive. He had moved on and joined a band. Sadly I've never listened to them because I do not know which band he plays in. Its been half of a year since I last saw him so I assume his band is flying towards the clouds at a fast pace.

My room was decorated in all of my artworks. Paintings, charcoal outlines, graphic arts, sketches, you name the technique I bet you I have done it. I draw what ever appears in my mind or what I have recently watched. Some odd but amazing yet creepy characters dancing to a beat of death or Frank from Donnie Darko. (That was originally a sort of joke and I meant to give it to my brother but I ended up loving it too much and just kept it and added it to my daily growing exhibit.)

It was a Sunday, 7:54:32, as my clock read. Six more minutes until my mother rose and began to make breakfast. Then after I ate I would shower and then turn on my IPod and draw. Everyday it was the same but I loved it and I was never going to stop my schedule or adjust it in any way.

Yes, I often wondered if I was insane, or had schizophrenia. I've never heard any voices in my head other than my own or the remembrance of lines from a recent blockbuster. But other people thought I was insane as well. My mother has taken me to many places and to see many people but as far as they can tell I'm fine. Just Rare. Hmm... Rare is such a beautiful word, it can explain so much and so little at the same time but yet mean so much to the creatures that inhabit this world. Human and animal alike.

39 seconds until eight o'clock. I stared at my dusty gray ceiling listening in the dark for the body that would rise soon. I heard the birds tweeting and chirping and signing to their friends. Friends would be nice, but not for me.

Three, Two,One. A door creaked open and I heard muffled feet walk down the flight of stairs into the hardwood floored living room then fade even more as the foot steps fell upon the tiles in the kitchen. I sat up and did my normal stretches then got up and looked at my mirror and my reflection in it.

A skinny girl with pale skin and dark hair looked back at me with green eyes bright as the freshly mowed grass out in the backyard, thanks to our flirtatious neighbor who had a thing for my mom. I glanced at the figure in the mirror that mimicked my moves.

I was deathly skinny. My ribs showed horridly and my hip bones were ugly and I looked like a dancing skeleton. I bit my lip and tore my eyes from the girl in the mirror, feeling to sick to look at myself any longer.

I walked carefully and quietly over to my large windows and slowly opened the blinds letting sunlight enter the room, illuminating every corner. I pulled the blinds to their normal comfortable spot, not all the way rolled up but almost. It was perfect. I sighed contently and opened my door just as quietly as I walked.

The stairs didn't creak under my light weight which was natural. I looked at the old family portraits that lined the nasty white walls. My father was not in any of them. I have no memory or any idea who or where he is and was. I guess things are better not knowing. Well, most of the time.