Pressure

Multiple Personalities. Digital image. Wordpress.com. Wordpress, 25 June 2014. Web. 11 Dec. 2015. <https://multipleself.files.wordpress.com/2014/06/multiple-personalities-paulo-zerbato.jpg>.

"Not now, I have things to do."
“Oh please, you say that every day,” she smiled, sitting on the window sill as always. “Go out. Have some fun, what difference does it make in the end if you get the grade or not?”

“Well, it matters right now,” I said, trying to sound convinced. She was right as always, sitting there with her stiletto heels and her bright, glow in the dark, neon face paint and fake eyelashes, smelling of alcohol on her breath.

“I heard there is a party this weekend. You should go. These projects never take you as long as you always think they do,” she winked.

“No! Don’t listen to her! You have a 93 in this class. Ninety f-ing three! You think that’s good enough? How dare you even consider listening to her!” a messy haired guy with bloodshot eyes spun me so my back was to her.  “Not to mention you have an 83 in Spanish. Eighty-three! C’mon! Last semester you had a 99!”

“Well it’s a lot harder this semester!” I retorted guilty spinning my chair back around. I don’t really know why he always managed to set me off. This happened pretty much every day.

“Oh boo hoo. You poor baby. You know that Tati has 100 in this class, right?”

“Lay off the girl!” the neon paint girl snapped, strutting over to me with her heels clicking and cupped my face in her hands. “C’mon. One night. An 83 is fine! Hell, a 50 is fine! An 83 is better than fine! It's a pass! Let's have some fun baby!”

“Devil!” he snarled taking a big swig of his Red Bull.

I turned back to my computer before I felt a tug at my jeans and looked over. There was a lonesome blonde girl with her bottom lip trembling who looked into my eyes. She reached up to me.

“Be my mommy?”

“I don’t wanna be a mommy honey…” I said avoiding her eyes

“But Mommy--”

“Please no!” I got up and went out into the hallway passing a melancholy figure coming out of the shadows. She looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks. Heck, months. I turned and caught her eye for half a second before shivers went down my spine and I turned away, trying desperately to ignore her and the woman in the corner rocking back and forth. Tears sliding down her face. I turned back to see where I was going and ended up face to face with the neon paint girl.

“Wanna distraction? I heard Adeeti has some pot--”

“Mommy, Mommy, Mommy--”

“Pot lowers your IQ!”

“But she’ll be popular!”

“Mommy, Mommy, Mommy--”

“What's the point of anything...”

“I’m gonna get some food,” I said, abruptly pushing past them and running down the stairs as fast as I could, hoping that they would all be gone by the time I came back up. I grabbed a cheese sandwich from the fridge, and just as I was about to put it into my mouth a hand shot in front of me.

“Don’t! You know how many calories that thing has? No one will ever want you!” The figure made my heart stop. She was skin and bones. Actually, no, not even that. She may as well not even have had skin. “Don’t! You wanna be pretty? Then fight that urge.”

“Besides,” the Red Bull guy showed up out of nowhere and snached the sandwhich, “you don’t have time to eat. You have finals in a month. A month!”

I covered my ears and ran back upstairs to the bathroom, panting over the sink. Praying that if I stayed in here long enough they might just go away. A tooth brush was shoved into my face.

“Here use this. Get all those calories out of you. You’ll be skinny in no time!”

“Oh nonsense, Darling,” said a man who looked like he must be a stylist showed up behind me. His choice of attire was ridiculously loud. He started to play with my hair. “A little makeup always does the trick, a pinch here, a pinch there, why, you’ll be getting looks from boys and girls!” He laughed. The skeleton girl looked disappointed.

I looked into the mirror. He was right (then again they all were) I could definitely use a pinch here and a pinch there. At least. I had spots all over my face and bags under my eyes from sleepless nights caused by their fighting.

“Listen to me, Honey. He knows what he’s doing,” the girl with neon paint winked at me.

“Mommy, Mommy, Mommy--”

“You disgust me.”

“YOU disgust me.”

I couldn’t take it any more. I felt my head pounding. I ducked underneath the stylist’s arms and ran out the door and into my front garden. When were they ever going to just leave me alone? I remembered them showing up one by one, slowly over time. It seemed tolerable at first, and I could even get a say in from time to time. But now I couldn’t even tell their voices from my own.

“Just end it.”

I turned around. It was that melancholy girl again. All on her own.

She extended her hand. “They drive me crazy, too, and it’ll only get worse. More will show up. It never gets better. Just end it now.” I looked into her hand. She was carrying a razor.

I wasn’t thinking. I just took it. No more pressure.