I am Normal: Part 2

I sauntered over to the fridge, the bubbling ache in my stomach growing ever louder and ever painful every step of the way. With a groggy sigh, my meekly hands reached for the handle, its cool touch a jolt to my still-slumbering senses. The seal breaks; there's a subtle rush of air, like a contented exhale. It was either bread or apples; the milk had turned spoilt yesterday. Wait no, a week past the expiry date. I’ll eat the bread tomorrow, I don’t feel like it today. The chilled juices of the apple seeped into my lips, lost energy regained from its wintry and crisp respite. I still didn’t feel revitalised enough to do anything. Thus, the only sensible choice… I once again planted myself on the bed, getting comfy, and switched on the TV.

I scrolled through the channels, nothing piquing my interest - nothing good nowadays. As every channel passed, my arm started to grow ever weaker. This damn… body. So weak. Sigh, I suppose… I can watch TV… later. For now, I… should sle-.

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My eyes rustily parted. Can I just not wake up for once? Why must I wake up in this God forsaken world? But no. This is my hell and I have been made to live in it. To suffer in it. Alone.

I reached out to my cup and-.

“Crash”

Oh, great. I’ll clean that up. Later. For now though, its shattered remains may rest upon the heaps of garbage on the ground. Just attempt not to trudge on it for now, I suppose. My feet fell dead on the ground, hanging on my thighs. I forced myself upwards, suspended on a bent knee; it felt like carrying the weight of the world was on my shoulders, akin to Atlas. After an excruciating uprise, I once again glimpsed upon the photograph. The photograph… I stretched out my hand, resting it upon its jagged wooden notches; gripping the cursed picture, veins protruding out of my hand. Such was the first time in a long while I felt strength in this accursed body. I pelted it to the opposite end of the room, fashioning a dent on the tattered fibreglass walls.

“Crack”

Its sharp resounding cacophony echoed throughout my house. I glared at the abused picture with bloodshot eyes. I attempted to curb my ever rising anger, achieving moderate success; I pried my eyes off of it, wishing for it to no longer hold any sway over my life. I tugged over to my bathroom, unfortunately being in its direction. I slithered past the garbage on the floor, catching one last glimpse of the photograph. What once was a pristine window into our relationship laid cleft, split down the middle, dividing me into two halves.

I propped my hands on the opposite edges of the sink in exasperation, hands trembling as they bore the weight of my frustration and weariness. I stared into the mirror, into its eyes. It had a grisly face; a goatee grown repugnant, teeth yellowed and decayed by neglect, a face tarnished by lines and curves mixed together to create a complexion of repulsiveness. The bleeding ends of his hideous lips tugged upwards, slinking into a satanic smile.

You know it’s their fault. Everything in my life… gone to hell because of them. I was doomed from the very start. I was brought down by them, weighed down by them, burdened by them! Like an anchor refusing to leave.

Damn them, DAMN THEM! It’s all their fault! They turned me into this!

Why did I get them? Why couldn’t I’ve gotten someone else! Someone better.

They should just… die. Shouldn’t even have existed.

And you… you simpering bastard. Is this pleasurable for you?

Why are you here? Why?! You’re worthless. You’ve done nothing good! Only gawk and spectate me whilst I spiral into the state that I am. Why were you born?! You’re worthless!! WHY?! TELL ME WHY! WHY TORMENT MY LIFE MORE?! IS THIS NOT ENOUGH?!

But you won’t… You never have, and never will help. Go ahead, remain quiet, like you always have. Incessantly watching me with those condescending eyes of yours brimming with disdain and disgust. You know the answers but you won’t say. All you’ll do is laugh when I fail and rejoice when I’m hurt. I hate you. I loathe you.

Balling my hands, I smashed and slugged the smooth pane in front of me. Right, left, right, left. We were separated only by a water-thin layer of glass, though he seemed to always be one step too far. The brittle facade began to rupture under my fists. A network of black webbed cracks snaked across the glass surface. Each line intersected and traversed with another, creating a separate, smaller world - each world embodying another one of him. Another him cackling at me, sniggering and tittering me. He’ll never go away.

No… There may be one way to get rid of him.

Yes! That has to be it! He will be no more! He will no longer torment me! I will be free. Yes. Yes! I can win! I will win and you will lose!!

“HahahaHaHAhahAhAHaHAHAHAHAHA!”

I reeled in the realisation, roaring in howls and hysterical laughter. He could do nothing to stop me. All he could do was watch, incapable of even the smallest of actions. I drunkenly sprinted to the cupboard below the kitchen stove. Its door creaked open, uncloaking a land of hope and glory, I saw it. I saw my salvation. A long piece of brown twine, turning and twisting. Ironically, it was my straight path to redemption. My fingers danced with anticipation, a triumphant grin gleefully like a crescent proliferated. I swiftly snatched it, else he would’ve taken it, relishing it with sheer delight. Clenching it as tight as I can, I galloped across the rooms like a mad-dog, scouting the house for the perfect location.

Of course. My bed! My once enervated limbs pelted my body towards home, getting ever closer to utopia. But… why does it seem to be getting farther? Why does my body… feel weaker? Huh? Why’s the world… flipping?