Here I am once again, writing this almost endless monologue of how I died.
The unique thing about my death is that it wasn't simply murder, accident nor illness. It was something so perplexing, confounding, treacherous but still something even I so cannot begin to understand how to define. Nevertheless, here I am about to tell you, attempt to tell you about my series of oppressing, disheartening, yet still somehow particularly indescribable series of events in the most conscientious way I can possibly recount. You now know the back story so without even more hesitation here goes... This is the story of The Liar, The Narcissist and The Sociopath.
You see, this is the problem with todays society; we are all so caught up on other peoples lives, completely discarding ourselves, just like a ravenous bengal tiger ready to pounce onto his prey. Growing up, I have always been interested in one particular area of lifestyle/learning, it started with my obsession with hello kitty, becoming to the point where my entire room was covered in the un-godly face of that awfully hypnotising kitten. I was eight. As I began to mature, I started to gain interest in particular parts of learning. I would memorise key information, random facts if you will which I would always bring up in any conversation. Luckily for me one of my interest points was learning about Adolf Hitler along side Nazi Germany. The reason this was beneficial for me was because I studied History for GCSE. I can still remember random facts;
Nazi party formation - 24th February, 1920 in Munich, Germany.
Adolf Hitlers date of birth - 20th April, 1889.
My classmates were aware of my fascination with different time periods, along side my deep interest in literature; my favourite novel being The Great Gatsby. I have also been different in that sense, being the only person in my class with completely different interests to other people. Most of the humans within my class were focused on music that was on the charts along side the latest clothing trends, in my case I was being suffocated by classmates who wore 'athleisure' on a daily basis.
Despite my hatred towards their clothing choices, I enjoyed school along side the company of my classmates, most of them were pretty decent people, of course they still saw me as a strange psycho (due to my peculiar writing style within my English work), but they were nevertheless; respectful.
It was period 4, I sighed waiting outside of Naya and Zareah's Maths class. Naya and Zareah have been close friends of mine for a long time now, initially I met Zareah first, by her accidentally sitting on me outside during P.E, we still laugh about it to this day. A year later, we both became closely acquainted with Naya. We all ran downstairs, eager to be set free from the tortures of double maths. You see the problem was not with the subject itself, it was with the teacher. His name was Mr Mustafa, you could easily identify him by his similar walking style to a penguin along with his usual slicked back, jet black hair, matching with his mustard waistcoat and phone/calculator. Now, the reason I say phone/calculator is purely based from one factor; I DID NOT KNOW WHAT THE HELL IT WAS. Zareah and I sat closely together in Maths, watching Mr Mustafa alternate between different coloured whiteboard pens whilst he scribbled down many contrasting equations on the board in front of the class. Zareah and I chuckled uncontrollably, amused by his fascination of colour schemes within mathematical formulas. He ordered the class to copy down the examples into our workbooks, which we of course obeyed. Due to my ability to write so swiftly, I was the first person to finish, so I looked around the classroom, just for my eyes to be met with Mr Mustafa on his phone? no...calculator?
"Psssssttt. Bro. Look! Look! Now! Mr Mustafa look at him! Is that a calculator or a phone, I genuinely have no idea." I whispered with pure confusion, towards Zareah. She slowly looked up, her pen still placed in her right hand, now her dark brown eyes admiring Mr Mustafa's awfully confusing piece of equipment.
"I-I- I'm not sure." she replied, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, both of us bursting out into laughter, just to alert his attention.
Later on that year did we find out that it was in fact an iPhone.
People saw me as a deeply troubled soul, this is not because I acted out or had any rebellious type of behaviour. It was purely based on the sorrow of my words and trauma of the past. I would tell most of my deepest issues to Naya and Zareah, Zareah would often change the conversation subject into a monologue about her own petty issues, this was awfully irritating.
One night, I began speaking to Naya through facetime, explaining to her how I have given up on Zareah due to her narcissism and pettiness. Considerately, I told Naya that she would not have to chose between myself nor Zareah, but go to whoever she desired to be with at that time. Naya nodded her head and furrowed her eyebrows, peering into my soul with her saucer-like eyeballs.
"I will NEVER leave you Elisabeth, and I really hope you know and remember that." she proclaimed, giving me a smile laced with pure gloom. I glanced back at her, contemplating and corresponding the sentence that she had just spoken, I began to think back to all the times a person has said that to me and how the situations always went awry. For one of the first times in my life I decided to believe her, believe that promise and keep it stored and locked tightly within my limbic system. I sighed, still conflicted.
"I hope not." I replied, wholeheartedly.
"I promise." She smiled.
YOU ARE READING
The Liar, The Narcissist and The Sociopath.
Short Story**TRIGGER WARNING** The beautiful thing about life is that you can easily become entranced by your own insecurities and views... Suffocated by the liar. Intoxicated by the narcissist. Drowning by her inner most demons.
