After age seven, after my death of sorts, I never felt like a normal child again. I had something taken away from me; but in return, I was granted a very strong sharpness, a clarity of vision that I knew others did not possess.
From an outward view, I suppose I seemed rather strange. I rarely smiled or laughed, often wearing a sullen expression upon my face. I felt no need to speak, and I did not desire the company of others. I was wholly focused within myself, and wanted to be distracted by nothing.
Nobody knew what was going on inside me. After the incident, I began seeing things that were not there before. I began to notice a sort of light surrounding people I knew very well, like a sort of aura that formed a ring around the person’s figure. I first noticed this with my mother one day while she was washing some dishes in the kitchen. There she stood, by the window, with a stream of light shining down on her, when suddenly, a green light began emanating from her, like a faint ray one would see on a rainbow. It looked rather beautiful, the color of a shimmering emerald, and it made me feel very safe and loved. At first, I thought it was just my mother who had some sort of special property about her. But later that night, my father came home, and I noticed a yellow ring of light around him, a light that was very fiery and bright and powerful.
“Hey, I’m home, my lovely ladies,” he called out to my mother and me. My mother walked over to him, and planted a sweet kiss upon his lips. That is when I saw the green and yellow lights from my mother and father dance around one another, intermingling and dancing with one another in a passionate dance for two. I knew at that moment that what I was seeing was the physical representation of true love between two people. I knew it from the very depths of my inner being that what I saw was real and true.
Fascinated, I dashed past my parents and into my bathroom, crawling up on the bathroom cabinet to get a good look at myself in the mirror. I drew in a quick gasp when I realized that I myself had a violet aura around myself. However, my aura was very faint, and had wisps of toxic black coming through amongst the violet light. Something was wrong with my aura.
Along with seeing the auras, I began to get visions. At first, they would start off as quick flashes, just pictures in my mind of something far off and nonsensical. But then, I began seeing longer and longer visions.
I remember one vision in particular that haunted me. When I got these visions, I would be shrouded in darkness, shut off from the real world.
One day, as I was making my bed, the darkness overcame me. I could see nothing. And then, in the silence of the darkness, I heard a muffled sobbing sound. I took a step toward the sound, and soon, a bleary vision began to appear.
I was in a room, lit up only by a small lamp on a desk next to a small bed. There was a figure on the bed- the source of the sobbing. Soon, the vision became clearer and clearer.
The figure on the bed was a young woman, covered up in a heavy black sweatshirt. In her right hand was a 40 proof bottle of vodka. In her left hand, was a pencil, which she used to scribble something upon a piece of paper.
“I’m sorry I was too weak,” she sobbed as she wrote on this piece of paper. “I’m just… not strong enough. I’m so sorry, I love you. Goodbye.”
At that point, the darkness returns. There is a horrible silence that surrounds me. I can still hear the sobbing, and it begins to grow louder and louder. And then, I hear an awful blast, and the sobbing stops. I don’t have to be able to see her to know that the woman is dead.
This vision would appear to me over and over and over again. I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t black it out. I no longer wanted these special gifts of mine, because they were destroying me.
My parents were concerned, and began sending me to therapist after therapist. But I could not connect with any of them. They all sat there, pen in hand, asking me monotonous question after monotonous question, to which I learned a prescribed set of answers to give. They would then scribble down some notes, and then tell me I was bipolar. All of them told me I was bipolar, and my parents soon believed it. I believed it too.
That is when the medications began. At first, I was put on very heavy dosages, so strong that all I could do was lay in my bed and stare at my ceiling. I didn’t move, eat, or sleep. I just stared.
This was when the vision came back to me. Except, I skipped the introduction- I was instantaneously fully immersed in the scene with the crying woman. All of a sudden, I did something that I was unable to do before. I was in the vision, myself, and all of a sudden, I felt an overwhelming power to be able to move through the vision. And so, I approached the woman sobbing on the bed.
I could not see her face, for her hood to her black sweatshirt concealed her. And so, under the influence of my medication, and without a second though, I pulled back her hood.
I wanted to scream. I recognized her eyes, her hair. The young woman who was sobbing as she approached her death… was me, several years from now.
The vision ended. I awoke from my vision screaming. I got up out of bed, walking over to my dresser to look at myself in the mirror. My purple aura had completely vanished. All that was left was the toxic black light that was constricting my inner being.
I was dying. Slowly, painfully aware of everything, I was approaching my end. If I didn’t do something soon, I knew I would be no more in a few short years. I had to do something, and I had to do something fast.
© Copyright 2016 Jenna Lane. All rights reserved.
Essay / Humor
Poem / Poetry
Poem / Poetry
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