Your Eyes Give It All Away

It would be extremely difficult to explain to my parents. They wouldn't understand. No one understands. Everytime I try talking to someone about my talent it always sounds cheesy. When I finally get out what I wanted to say they either think I am lying for attention, or they believe me and are freaked out.
I am not interested in social contact. I hate talking to people because they always tell me to look at them when they are speaking to me. If only they knew that their eyes give it all away...maybe they would understand.

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2. Chapter 2

          At home I climb the stairs to my room jumping three steps at a time. I close my bedroom door behind me and lock it. Even though no one is home yet, I feel more comfortable in my diminutive and secure bedroom. After sitting down at my desk, I retrieve my yearbook from last year and look into their eyes. Pictures are different for me. Pictures allow me to see people normally like everyone else. But I still have a hard time judging them because I remember their stories and their feelings. Indirectly I have been through all their embarrassing moments, and at the same time all of their painful and joyful moments. For one instant I feel how they felt.

          I have technically been skydiving three times, had five of my parents die, fifty-nine grandparents die,  been to twenty-one weddings, broke my bones plenty of times, and have dropped all of my books in the hallway  about one-hundred-nineteen times.   When in my own life experiences, both of my parents are alive, all four of my grandparents are alive, I have never been to a wedding, broken any bones or gone skydiving, and I have only dropped my books in the hallway twice.

I put the yearbook away and finish my homework. My mother comes home from work around 4:00 in the afternoon and my dad comes home later, around 6:00. We eat dinner together every night and then clean off the table systematically. My mother washes the dishes, my father dries them, and I put the dishes away and wipe the table down.  After that is finished we all separate again and do whatever we please until we are tired enough to go to sleep. Sleeping is never too hard for me. For some people, that is the only time when it is peaceful enough to think straight. For me, that is the only time I let myself stop thinking.

I wake up to the sound of my alarm clock and snap out the wonderful nothingness. I proceed to pick out an outfit for school. Today I have Physical Education first, then Chemistry, Lunch, and lastly Pre-Calculus. I jump the stairs onto the bus and pick a seat close to the back. The bus started heading down its normal course. A few seconds later, instead of turning the corner the bus continued straight down a dead-end street. I wake up a little bit more as we drive on the bumpy unpaved road. At the end of the street I see a two story house that is quite normal looking and have two white rocking chairs on the porch. In one rocking chair there is a woman and in the other a man.

    I look into her eyes and I can feel my eyes connecting with hers. I feel dizzy for a moment so I close my eye lids and when I open them I am standing barefoot in a lake tossing rocks and watching them bounce across the water. My feet are being cooled off by the water and I start walking involuntarily out of the water while laughing. I feel overjoyed but I do not know why. Everything looks like it is covered in a layer of fog and so I blink again even though I know blinking will not help, it will only move me on into the next memory. Now I am in a wedding dress looking at a younger version of the man who was on the porch. I walk down the aisle and the man smiles at me. I cannot control my feet but they continue forward.

     I blink again and now I am in a dark alley. I feel it in the back of my mind that this woman has been here before. I want to tell her to run and get out of here, but I remember that this is her memory and I cannot control it, I can only experience it. I hear a sound behind me, and her memory makes me turn my head even though I would not have done that if I was in control.  I see my attacker and do nothing. Through her eyes now, and what I saw of this woman on the porch she is not very tall. And looks weak. I feel panic rising in me but I know deep down that the panic is the woman’s not my own and that I can stop this allusion whenever I want. I can feel the woman’s overpowering fear and deep down I start to feel like I am becoming lost in the memory. The attacker raises his hand and at that moment I shut my eyes and keep them closed. I think about myself sitting on the bus and looking out the window. I open my eyes and am looking at the woman. She is smiling at her son as he walks onto the school bus for the first time. Not even an instant passed while going through that woman’s memory and I barely got through three different memories before feeling lost.

I was almost trapped in a happy memory once. I felt so happy and so warm that I never wanted to leave. Eventually I started feeling lost and I had never felt that before.  I started to get so scared of this new feeling that I closed my eyes and tried to picture myself again so I could return to the present time, but all I could think about was that person’s happy memory. I became more frightened and could feel tears running down my own cheeks not even the cheeks of the person who’s memory it belonged to. I stopped crying and decided to focus on my own tears in the hope that I would return to my own body. I opened my eyes and after returning to the classroom I was in before I looked into the teacher’s eyes, I realized that every child in the room was staring at me. I eventually figured out that because there were tears on my cheeks after I opened my eyes, that I must have been in that memory so long, that time decided to start without me and that if I would have stayed there longer, I would have been lost in the memory, therefore forgetting my own memories, and not be able to return. Ever since then I have learned to return to my own mind immediately after I start feeling lost.

I look away from the woman and her husband on the porch and start to focus on the young child boarding the bus. He looks like he could be a well behaved child, but I do not prove my hypothesis with a check through his memories, I just observe him. He walks quietly onto the bus and checks out his surroundings. He quickly finds a seat. He talks to no one, but just looks out the window to his left and smiles as he watches his parents waved good-bye. I look out the window also and wonder if I will find someone to study today. We turn around at the end of the street and continue on our normal route to school.

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