Song: Freak Show -Skillet
"El, try these on," Sam, my eleven year old big brother, says, passing me our great-great-grandfather's cracked glasses. "You can't see anything through them!"
"Ok," I reply cheerfully, giggling. I'm only seven.
I take the glasses and put them on, laughing and holding my hands out in front of me as I walk forward. I bump into the coffee table and instinctively back pedal, my feet becoming entangled in a blanket.
Yelping, I fall back, landing on the hard floor. In slow motion, I see something tiny and silver fall from the glass over my left eye. I try to close my lids, but not in time. It hurts as the speck lands in my eye, and an electrical current seems to flow throughout my body, and I scream until the pain dies down. I shake uncontrollably as shapes start flying around my line of vision.
"El?" I hear Sam calling, but he sounds distant. "El, what's wrong?"
I hear my mom and dad yelling my name, yelling to call an ambulance, that I must be having a seizure.
"I see something," I manage to mumble.
"What do you see?" Sam asks, but his voice seems waterlogged.
I shake my head a little, and Sam seems to understand that I can't describe it. He hands me a piece of paper, asking if I can draw it. I take the paper and a crayon and begin drawing out the symbols until I can see straight again. I've used two sheets of paper, front and back.
"What is that?" Mom asks, and I can hear her voice clearly.
"That's what I saw, after that thing fell in my eye," I announce, proud of my drawing skills.
Mom and Dad share a look that I've never seen on either of them before. A look that worries me. I later realize that it's because my left eye is suddenly a bright, fluorescent blue, while the right is still it's average brown.
That day is the first time I went to a psychologist, psychiatrist, and a hospital all in the same day. That day is the day I was described as possibly schizophrenic. It wasn't until a month or so later that they decided to make it an official diagnosis and start me on the medications.
YOU ARE READING
I Swear I'm Not Crazy
FanfictionEleanor Thea Witwicky is your average little girl. Or, she was. Until she became obsessed with these symbols that were only in her mind. She drew them everywhere. Notebooks, her bedroom walls, even her own arms and legs. Everyone thinks she's crazy...