Just A Little Something

Chapter 2

Slight OCD

I'm a coward, plain and simple.
I have odd quirks.
I colour code and file my construction paper.
If my food touches I wont eat it.
I count the stairs everytime I go up them.
I say a lot of things I don't mean.
I still like dinosaurs.
I like big bulky head phones rather than ear buds.
I have an intense imagination.
I have a strong stomach.
Unless I'm sick.
I like stripes.
But pokadots are more fun.
My washing machines name is Roberta.
She's older than my youngest brother.
That's over eleven years old.
And we got her around the same time my brother was born.
If Roberta ever breaks down I'm not letting anyone throw her away.
She's family.
I know, I sound crazy don't I?
I get attached to things.
Like my glasses.
I'm going to keep them even after I get another pair.
Sometimes I hear voices.
Sometimes I see things.
Half the time I don't hear what people are saying,
Cause I'm too lost in thought.
I get yelled at because of that.
I write my own sheet music sometimes.
Though I never really write it down.
My cat's name is Dusty.
He's friendly and eats anything.
He's a strange cat.
I like to eat tuna and cereal together.
I like making Damnwiches.
It's a food I created.
I love thunder storms.
And when the power gets knocked out.
I've only seen snow two times before.
And I loved it.
I used to be bullied.
And I got into fights.
Though I never fought back.
I'm pretty weak.
I don't even weight a hundred and fifteen pounds.
I'm short.
Five foot three to be exact.
Well exact is adding another half inch but whatever.
I like watching BBC shows.
Music does influence my personality sometimes.
Mainly if it hits close to home.
I have some problems.
Most of them are because of my half-sister.
She hates me and blames me for stuff that went wrong in her life.
But she moved out.
She's two years older than me.
She used to hit me and force me to do things.
And she used to touch me too.
My step-grandfather is in prison for child molestation.
I have a niece.
She's not even one year old yet.
My mother hits me sometimes for stupid things.
Like the way I spell colour.
She's an alcoholic.
Just like my father and half-sister.
I rarely leave my house.
I don't like meeting new people.
Not really.
But I don't like being with these people all the time.
So I usually stay in my room.
At night sometimes I climb though my window and onto the roof to think.
I love the moon.
And I love when it's full.
I don't like Maths.
The questions only have one answer.
There's only the problem and nothing more.
But creativity is what I am.
And I love being the creative person I am.
I like science.
It's like Maths, isn't that a science?
I don't know but Chemistry can be beautiful.
Biology is life.
It's amazing.
I love plants.
I like to climb trees.
I'm good at it.
Haven''t fallen out of one in over a year.
I've tried to run away before.
Didn't work out.
I really hate where I live.
I have a messy room.
But when it's clean I need everything where it's supposed to be.
It's a strange habit yes.
I can't use my closet cause there are too many books in there.
I'm a protective person.
If someone messes with a person I care about I'll mess them up.
Though if they hurt me I wont really care.
I'm a bit odd.
People give me weird looks when I'm out in public.
Sometimes I give them weird looks back.
I hate saying "I love you.".
If I don't have any beef with someone I wont start anything.
I'm a bit impulsive.
When I meet someone new I usually go into my shell and not talk.
Needles terrify me.
I have no life.
I tend to have many conspiracy theories.
I procrastinate.
Sometimes I'm afraid of my own shadow.
I love Alice in Wonderland.
Because it's so amazing.
And unreal.
My perception of reality is distorted.
Nothing really seems real.
Like it's all a dream.
And my dreams seem more real the reality.
Sometimes the ground seems like it's a million thing crawling,
And I'll fall though at any minute.
Sometimes the sky flashes.
I don't really like the way my skin is.
Not because it's oily or greasy or anything like that.
But because I can feel it.
And I'll never be able to take it off.
Does that make sense?
I don't usually make sense.
My poems tell stories.
I guess they paint a picture of my life.
I don't know really.
Sometimes I think I'm a bit insane.
And other times I think I'm just not there.
My body doesn't always feel like it's mine.
And there are multiple sides to me.
I don't like it.
Not really.
But that's why I love to read.
Because it's not me.
And I become the person that's telling the story.
I feel the emotions and in my mind I see what's happening.
I suppose I'm a bit demented.
I'm morbid.
And so is my sense of humor sometimes.
When I look in the mirror I hate what I see.
Because what I see is something besides me.
Something I don't really like looking at.
It's a bit demented and insane.
I'm pale.
I don't go outside much.
And when I do I cover up as much as possible.
I absolutely hate the way the sun light feels on my skin.

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