I was back in my own room now.
“You're looking very nice today Rachel,” Brandon said to me.
“Why thank you!” I smiled and squirmed about in a flattered sort of way.
I was leaning over the side of my bed to pick up something that was on the ground.
“Oh she's looking straight into the camera!”
I stopped and sat up. “She was looking straight into the camera just now.”
Was the camera on my bedside table? I still didn't know where the camera was!
“Rachel, google hidden cameras.”
I opened a new browser window on my laptop and did as Brandon suggested. I got a lot of search results. Not knowing where to look, I scrolled down, then stared blankly at the screen for about five minutes. None of it registered in my mind. I didn't register what I was looking at. I was just spacing out, focused on the random jarbled thoughts within my own mind.
Where do I look?
“Rachel, it's right in front of you!”
I looked at the search result right in front of me. It was about how you could put a hidden camera in a pen. I looked at my bedside table. There was a pen sitting there.
“It's in the pen!” Brandon whispered to me.
I picked up the pen, looked at it, smiled, and sat it back down on my bedside table, in the same direction, so that I was still visible on camera.
In doing so, I made a statement. I was perfectly okay with Brandon watching me in my own room through a camera. He was perfectly welcome to do so.
“Rachel thinks she's okay with me watching her, and reading her mind. She still doesn't realize all the things I know about her now, and all the stuff I saw her doing.”
What had I done in my room? Randomly, I remembered watching a video on facebook about a month back. It started out with a dog, who sees an injured dog on the freeway and goes across traffic to save the other dog. Then it showed a surveillance video of a little kid in a warehouse, who gets run over by some sort of machinery, and no one stops to help. Many people walk by as the kid lies their injured and dying. Finally, after a really long time, someone stops to help, but it is too late and the kid ends up dying. I remembered how I had watched this video, and it had made me feel horrible and sick.
“That was a fake video,” Brandon told me. I don't know if this was true, but this is what he said in my head. So I went over to that particular friend's page who posted the video, to see if I could find it again.
But, I got distracted by something else. A picture he had posted on his timeline. It said, “Your beliefs don't make you the better person, your behavior does.” I found this incredibly relevant to my own struggles, to my classmates who stalked me because of my belief that I had been Jesus. I clicked share. I went back to my own timeline again and it wasn't there. So I clicked share again.
“Rachel, that was stupid! Give it time to post!”
I went back to my own timeline. Now that picture appeared twice. I held up my index finger. “Wait a second!” I wrote as a comment under one of them: “This was so great I shared it twice!”
All of us burst out laughing.
I was making fun of people on facebook now. People who overshare. Not with facebook statuses, but with dumb pictures they share that they find on facebook pages. I had spent many a session on facebook, scrolling through post after dumb post from the same person, where they will go to one page and share twenty or so pictures all at once. God, that was annoying.
“Okay Rachel, now it's time. Look up Adam, the guy with the chromosome song, and look at his birthday.”
I remembered how I wondered if Adam had been born on the 22nd of the month, any month. So I went to his profile and looked at his birthday. September first.
Ohhh.... Then I remembered the chromosome song.
Wait. Wait a second! One to one!
I said “one to one” out loud.
In my head, this confirmed that I was meant to send that message to Chance. This was the universe lining up, in my favor.
I started making fun of other things people do on facebook. Several years ago, Adam had actually had a facebook status about how he hates when people make facebook statuses about what they had for dinner.
“Mmm, potstickers! Yumm!” I don't know if anyone understood that this was a satirical post.
“Let's share everything just because it says to!” There were a number of posts that people would share, not because they were interesting, but for exactly that reason: because they said to. My favorite were the ones that said Like for something, comment for something else, share for something else, and ignore for Justin Bieber. The idea being that everyone hates Justin Bieber so they can't ignore.
Then I remembered how I had made fun of Jeremy in the car for having Justin Bieber on his iPod, and I laughed.
At this point, I was laughing my head off about the whole thing. To the point where Brandon was saying to me, “okay, Rachel. It wasn't that funny.” I couldn't stop laughing about the thing I had shared twice, I kept laughing about it over and over and over again.
I realized this was representative of something. It was representative of the Adderall. Because that's what you do on Adderall. You think about something, that for whatever reason when you are on Adderall makes you feel good, and you feel good about it. And then you think about it again, and feel good about it again. And then think about it yet again, and yet again feel good about it. Over and over and over again to the point where it gets ridiculous.
EDIT: Actually, the reason I was doing this now was Geodon brain damage.
It was so stupid. I got so mad I went and told my mom. After being on Adderall so long, I think like I am on Adderall all the time. Things don't get old. I explained to her this effect of Adderall, and she was shocked that Adderall even did that.
So I knew where one of the hidden camera's Brandon had placed was. When I discovered it was in the pen, I didn't even investigate the pen.
But Brandon had placed several cameras around the house. Where were the rest?
I was standing in the entryway to our house when, without warning, I involuntarily started shaking my butt all around. I heard Brandon whisper in my ear, “Rachel, that means you're on camera.” I was shocked that I had handed so much control of myself over to Brandon, that he now had the ability to influence my body's movements.
It happened upstairs too, when I was standing in front of the mirror in the hall. There was a camera by the mirror.
I was standing in my room now. Brandon had so much control over me. I was like a puppet. Or a character in the Sims.
“Dance for us, Rachel.”
I put on my headphones and started dancing to “Annie You Save Me.” Then I put on Porcupine Tree, “Fear of a Blank Planet.”
“No, don't dance to that song. Rachel, you don't dance as well to that song.”
I searched through my iPod. I had a few songs by Nirvana. I put on Lithium, but they told me to change it.
People always complain that when I listen to music on my headphones, it is too loud. I imagined that this happened on purpose, so that the cameras could pick up the sound of the music I played.
There was something about when I used to play the Sims. I heard Brandon talking. “When most people play the Sims, they play with free will on, and correct their Sim's mistakes. Rachel plays with free will off and makes all their decisions for them.” I hadn't played the Sims recently, so someone who knew me must have told Brandon this. It was as if Brandon was in contact with everyone I had ever met in my life. And this was some sort of punishment for playing the Sims with free will off.
“Rachel, take off your clothes,” Brandon said to me.
“I don't want to.”
“But you don't have free will!”
I proceeded to take off my clothes.
“Dance around the room.”
“No!”
“But you don't have free will!”
I danced around the room.
“Lie down on the bed and roll around.”
I did as I was told.
“Now we are going to play a game called, 'I want to be a guy's little plaything.' Roll around on the bed and repeat that.”
“Huh?”
“You don't have free will!”
So I did as I was told. I rolled around on the bed and spoke in a voice that was soft enough so you wouldn't be able to hear outside of the room. “I want to be a guy's little plaything, I want to be a guy's little plaything, I want to be a guy's little plaything...” I stopped.
They were laughing now. “Rachel keep going.”
“I want to be a guy's little plaything, I want to be a guy's little plaything, I want to be a guy's little plaything...” I repeated this for quite awhile. This was actually kind of fun.
“Okay, you can stop now. This game's getting kind of old.”
Finally! I jumped up and put my clothes back on.
“Woah there! I didn't say you could put your clothes back on!”
I jumped back up and took my clothes off again.
“Now, masturbate for us.”
“No I don't want to do that!”
“You don't have free will!”
Wait a second... I grabbed my computer. I had a question for Erik, since this was the kind of thing I would ask Erik.
“Erik, I have a question. Is it possible to hand control of yourself over to someone else?”
“That only works if you let it!”
That figured. Brandon didn't really have control over me. I was letting him do this stuff to me. I wanted this to happen.
I was reminded of a song. I looked up the lyrics to the song “Gimme gimme” by Lords of Acid.
I was singing to the lyrics when I heard yelling an objections in my head. “That's a really stupid song Rachel!”
“But I like this song!” It was getting annoying because I was starting to feel like Brandon had to approve of all my personal music choices.
I put my clothes back on and started dancing. My mom knocked on the door.
“What's going on in here?”
“Not very much at all.”
“Boy, I wish we had a camera to record all this!” my mom said.
“Now isn't that a funny thing for you to say?” I shooed my mom out and closed the door.
“Rachel, you should probably give it a rest. We're getting tired.”
“Fine.” I settled down, turned off the lights and went to sleep.
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