No Sleep Till Brooklyn

I gotta say I'm really starting to appreciate sleep.

I haven't gotten any sleep for the past four days. I'm way past being bullied by dead people. As terrible as it sounds, I have a life and i intend to live it. They could at least respect my sleeping hours.

Anyway, when I'm asleep it's like I'm a searching radio just picking up signals all night long. Every once in a while it'll get to me and I get irritated and agitated.

My mom has no patience for it since it's not the first time. She stays up nights listening for the sounds of my whimpering. Wondering if I've been sucked into to someones tragic passing; if I'm viewing or participating in the worst or most defining moment of someones life.

This week is not a good week. I actually asked around frantically to see if it was one of those extremely tacky and mandatory school spirit lunches we have on Fridays. Only, it's Thursday.

I've yet to due my financial aid application which is due in less than a week. I'm pretty sure I'm about to miss yet another Service Learning opportunity which is necessary to graduate. Then there's the thing that happens every year because the physiology and anatomy class dissects cats every freaking year. So I'm terrorized by cats no one else can see, just darting in and out of hallways. The first year I didn't even know about the dissections so I was the idiot running around obsessed with cats.

I swear sometimes I despise being me.

If!.... you're!.... a-freak-of-nature and you know it clap your hands!!!

Clap. Clap.

Well I don't usually explain the exact aspects of how it works to many people. I'm still learning the ropes my self.

When I was little I wasn't scared at first. It was all that I knew, everyone else was different, not me. Then I understood, slowly, that I was a freak and my mother (love you mommy) was at a loss with me. Completely unable to aid me in any way because the mechanics of it all were just as strange to her then, as they are to me now.

Then in middle school I was all mopey. I had received pep talk after pep talk from my mom. How I was as normal as I was ever meant to be. That it wasn't a big deal and I needed to stop whining and get over it. That in this family, it actually wasn't all that uncommon (Yeah, it just gets weirder). In middle school I was always whining to my mom that I must have a reason in life. Maybe, I thought, I was a mistake of the universe, that how cruel could any greater being be to make me like this? Essentially ruining any hope at normalcy for my entire life.

I got over it. I'm seventeen now (Yay!) and I've picked up on the basics. The DO's and DON'Ts and the just wing it but be careful moments. I haven't been scared for a very long time. I know who I am. I am not a WHAT. Just you're everyday brat with extraordinarily understanding friends.

If you're psychic, then can I be a wizard?

Today in guitar class, the ever persistent freshman, whose Pseudonym I've yet to come up with, guessed it. I knew the exact moment when he suspected something was off about me, his inquiries were still playful and charming but they suddenly had new direction. He really had no clue how close he was to the truth.

I'm.... a little bit different. I love pizza, I refuse to ever wash my chucks (dirty shoes are loved shoes c; ), I'm on my way to college next year and I'm also a Psychic.

Ugh, I hate that word. Psychics, to me, are palm readers with bad intentions and a neon light up sign in front of their houses. No thanks. I prefer to be called a sensitive. Though it has come  to my attention that this doesn't really affect anyone's life but mine, so no one else has spent countless hours Google-ing this crap to find out all the different names for it. Silly me.

It's really  not that noticeable. I don't usually climb buildings and scream it to the mountains but as it turns out a clever freshman is more than a little observant. He guessed it and eventually, after making him eat a piece of paper he didn't even understand.. I told him. Then we spent the next hour talking about it and me getting slightly more than little self conscious. I'm just not used to sharing.

I don't know why I'm starting this blog. It's probably (more like actually) a really bad idea. If my mom ever finds out I'm putting this out there I'm going to be in so much trouble. Maybe that's why. Because it really sucks a fat  one that I'm always my own biggest problem because some messed up rule of reality meant that I had to be born like THIS.