raven's perspective
I'm sitting alone in my squalid apartment on Lyre Road, which is on the Upper East Side of Jump City. The night sky shoves the Moon away from my window, leaving the job to the stars.
My setting is dark. Dark violet walls make a perfect square, but if you see the walls as black, you aren't completely wrong. Bookshelves brimmed with novels of tragedies and romances sit against one of the walls.
The dressers, a mirror, and a closet lined separate partitions. Everything is perfectly aligned and tidy. There was not a crack for sloppiness. My bed was tightly spread. The linen was tucked asymmetrically in the corners, and the pillows nearly free of dust.
Before my pen hits the journal I tap the butt of it seven times. I shake it in my hand, flip the mouth to the paper, and let the ink flow.
My letters strike the leaf of paper slower than a turtle. I write 'Rachel R. Roth' intricately and delicately on the upper left hand side of the paper.
"No room for mistakes..." I whisper to myself.
The date, I write cleanly on the upper right side of the sheet.
Tuesday, September 17th.
I placed my hand on the lined paper and moved it down until my middle finger touched the fourth line.
I began my title.
There is Order in a Disorder.
Not a scribble or cross-out was made. If that occurred at any point in time no matter how far I got, I'd crumble the paper, and restart.
I lean up from the book and take a deep breath.
My heartbeat is plugged into my ears like headphones and my blood is grumbling like a lion.
"Don't mess... up." I coached myself.
Seven taps on the butt of the pen, a shake, a flip, the ink begins to leak.
'The world is not perfect, but I try to make mine perfect.
Every detail is vigilantly noted and nursed.
Repetition of certain activities are crucial.
It gives me the assurance and confidence that
I can barely find it in the normal world.
I don't know when this started, but each day it blossoms like a knoblike component that grows into a splendid rose.
The only thing is, this is not beautiful.
I heaved as pressure crushed against my spine.
This figure is the morsel between my teeth, and the loose thread on my blouse.
It haunts me like a ghost, wailing over and over in my head; becoming my daily song.
Leave me alone, pretty please...
Five minutes passed and I inhaled, exhaled, repeated my pen habit, and resumed writing.
Tears bubble up in my sockets.
Click the light switch up and down four times before entering the kitchen.
Flick the front door lock back and forth eleven times before going to bed.
Number the cracks in the sidewalks.
"Don't screw it up, Rachel. Perfection is
fundamental." I gritted my teeth.
Brush your teeth five times a day.
Wash your hands for two minutes after touching surfaces and people.
If no soap is available use hand sanitizer.
Organize your meals by color before eating.
One teardrop. Two.
Tap your desk in school fourteen times a minute to reduce anxiety.
Don't overthink about the remaining streak of chalk on the board.
I snap.
Tears stream down my pale cheeks.
Stop listening to the buzzes of wires in class. Pay attention!
Do not touch the fuzz in their hair or on their shirt. It's not going to bite you, it will go away soon.
Just ten more minutes.
If you are in a public restaurant, take your utensils to the bathroom, wash and dry them thrice.
You just dusted off the dresser and changed the pillowcases for the fifth time this week. Rachel, Mom told you she is getting tired of doing your laundry!
I wrote faster and faster, keeping the ink neat as my emotions fueled me.
You used Lemon and Lime Blossom Scent Lysol wipes on the twelve doorknobs of the house last Thursday.
You read the Nutrition label twice top to bottom and twice again bottom to top.
Breathe, breathe.
You counted all of the cars on the street before entering the house.
Relax, you're only trying to make the world perfect.
I broke down, slammed my head on the journal, and let my tears merge with the ink.
"It's not perfect at all. No matter how much I try, it will never be... perfect."
I felt a twinge in my chest and stomach. I let the darkness settle over me, and cried myself to sleep.