I was sitting on my bed, when I felt a message from Brandon coming through. I stopped and focused my mind.
“Rachel. Like Arthur on facebook.” He was referring to that little kid show with Arthur the aardvark. I used to watch this show on TV when I was at Innercept, along with another kid show called Martha Speaks. I hadn't watched them since I had been at home, however.
“I like it how you sit around and watch little kid shows. Another thing. Remember that message you sent me about how your parents tested your blood to see if you had pyromania? You should make that your facebook status.”
So I wrote a facebook status:
My parents tested my blood. It turns out I have pyromania.
“The reason that one's funny is because the stupid people from Lake Oswego won't know you're joking. It goes along well with your other statuses. Back when you wrote that message to me, I didn't realize that you were joking, and I thought you were stupid.”
When I talked about being tested for pyromania, I was actually referring to a condition called pyroluria. I always called it pyromania as a joke.
I had actually made a small breakthrough in my own thinking. Previously, I would have dismissed as impossible anything I didn't understand. Now, I was accepting that these were things I was incapable of understanding because I didn't have that problem myself. I didn't understand how you could make up lies and tell stories and not realize that they weren't true. But pathological liars could do this. I just had to accept that what was going on with Erik and his family, it was something I didn't understand.
However, I later realized it wasn't true. This is a family with a strange past that never lies. However, at the time I didn't know.
My problem had been that previously, I was incapable of seeing through people. I was often fooled by people when they were being fake. I didn't see their true intentions.
For several months now, I had really like Facebook God, despite being Christian. I had always wondered why that page upset so many Christians. Now I was looking at the page, and I was seeing that Facebook God really just made fun of Christians. Except I already knew this, but this was in a slightly nasty, negative way. For the first time, I was seeing this.
“Rachel sees through Facebook God now,” Brandon told Chance.
I was looking at the Facebook God's page. “Hey! But that's okay! I still think Facebook God is funny! Facebook God is still funny!” I was stubborn and unwilling to back down on this.
I scrolled through the page. I came to one picture in particular. “Mary gave birth to Jesus, Jesus was the lamb of God... Does that mean Mary had a little lamb?”
I stared at this picture for awhile, and then gasped. “WOOAHH!!”
I heard Brandon and Chance laughing at my reaction to this picture. Then I started laughing at myself.
“We thought that was trippy too,” Brandon said to me.
Chance showed up as one of my top nine friends. I looked at his picture on my facebook page. As I stared at his picture, I could feel the graveness of this situation. Everything depended on him. Everything.
Chance and I weren't in love. No, but Chance and I were soul mates. Love had yet to develop. That's why he was interested in me in eighth grade, despite the fact that I wasn't that attractive and didn't talk. Chance could sense this about me. He liked me. But was that enough? Somehow, that feeling had to outlast all the horrible things that we had gotten on camera.
In reality, it wouldn't have been all that bad. But I had misconstrued ideas, and with misconstrued ideas, things tend to present themselves in extremes. So in my delirious state, I thought that these video clips of me, a lot of them, were extremely ugly. For one, my room was a mess. I was a slob. I would take food in to my room, lots of food, and eat it messily while sprawled out on the bed and absorbed in my online, facebook life. I would drink soda, and belch. I would fart. I imagined that this was due to an intolerance for lactose. That was another thing. Aspartame wasn't fit for human consumption, neither were dairy products or carbonated beverages. This problem with the American diet was represented through me, and my flatulence/belching habits. Because I was Jesus, of course. My unpleasant burps and farts weren't representative of those of our entire nation.
So I looked at Chance's picture, and I knew that he had to forgive me for all of this. He had to get past all of this about me. If he could, we would be together, but more importantly, the souls of everyone in existence would not have to go to hell, rather, people would be given a chance to get saved, and the saved souls would go to heaven. And, we would warn people about global warming together. But first and foremost, hell. Because hell was a more pressing concern.
I looked at Chance's picture, knew it all rested on him, and laughed about it. Because that was all I could do, laugh. I picked up my iPod, put on the song “Inside the Fire” by Disturbed, and danced around the kitchen. Pick me. Pick me.
“Rachel.” Brandon spoke to me. “Chance says he'll pick you, but first you need to do some housekeeping. Clean up your room a bit.”
So I went upstairs and furiously got to work on my room, picking up clothes that were on the floor, discarding trash, recycling cans and bottles, doing anything I could to beautify the place.
I hadn't been taking my Adderall. Problem was, I was still on Invega. Now, Adderall was an appetite suppressant, and Invega was an appetite stimulant. So from that moment on, I stopped taking Invega. In the mean time, for a few days, I had to continue taking Adderall, until the Invega left my bloodstream.
But I hadn't taken any Adderall today. I stopped what I was doing, hunched over, and held my stomach. Kind of like a Sim.
“I see your problem. I feel it. Go take some Adderall!” Brandon ordered me reluctantly. I went to my mom's bedroom and found some Adderall on her dresser. It was almost as if Brandon had known it was there, because he could see it on camera. I swallowed the pill.
I started arguing with my dad. I told him that maybe I had never really been delusional, maybe they just weren't smart enough to understand the stuff I said. I remembered something, a pattern in my dreams. Several dreams I had had involved people being taunted with songs. I took the cue from these dreams. I began taunting my dad with a song. “If you don't understand it that means it's not true, you can't accept that your daughter might be smarter than you!” To which my dad responded, “Just because it can't be seen, doesn't mean the alien's not green!” A purely silly taunt, to counteract the silliness that I was spewing.
So I taunted my dad with my song. He taunted me back with his. He chased me around taunting me with his. I laughed. This was kind of fun.
I was reminded of an Einstein quote I had seen on facebook. The problem with really smart people is they sound like really crazy people to really stupid people. My dad said he didn't believe this was true. But Einstein said it! How could it not be true?
I went back to my computer to look this up. My computer froze. “That's me, Rachel. Go taunt your dad some more,” Brandon told me. So I went and taunted him some more.
Something else started coming in. I picked up on this psychically. Brandon had put a camera in my dad's office. My sister had gone through my dad's computer one time, and she was disgusted to find that my dad had file where he had saved a bunch of suggestive pictures of her from when she was younger. What I was imagining now, I was imagining that at night, late at night, my dad looked at these pictures. And touched himself. Almost without realizing what he was doing. God, that was gross! Brandon had gotten it on camera.
I thought about bringing this up. Should I do it? Should I say it? No, not yet. I could feel the time wasn't right yet. Not yet. Wait until the time is right. Wait until the moment, that moment when you feel it is the right thing to do.
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