Ballad of a Multiple

By deeasherself

I'm washing my hands in the men's bathroom of the psychiatric ward for the schizophrenics because for some reason I don't want to think about one of my personalities brought me here. I grab the sides of the sink and put my head under the cold water stream to let it wake me up. But then the soft music starts playing and I curse loudly. The musician leans against the wall wearing his classy concert pianist clothes and leads a piano with one hand. "I wrote this song for you" he says with a charming smile that would melt everyone's heart if he were real. "You know what day is today, right?”

I don't answer.

Of course I know what day is today.

I dry my hands on my pajama and he stares at me, still smiling, as I walk past him and out of the bathroom.

The music continues and he’s walking beside me, now holding a three year old little girl dressed as a princess and wearing a mask in his arms.

It’s hard to live one life
being more than one person.

He sings, the music grows louder, the lights go off, we’re on a stage with a band and he starts singing again as the little girl twirls happily around me.

It’s hard to life one life
being more than one person.
Sharing your body and mind isn’t fun at all
when you’re not in control.

It turns into a musical before I can stop it, so I roll my eyes as the other personalities join the singing and dancing.

There’s the five pairs of glasses
the four chronological colds
the three periods in a row
the two foreigners
and the criminal we’d rather not sing about.

I try to leave the stage, leave them all there and walk away before it gets any worse, but they won’t let me.

You see us and we see you
our garden parties are the best.

They point at me with their jazz hands so I bite.

But please don’t leave me alone with them
‘cause I don’t know myself anymore.

They laugh and the music continues louder and louder.

You’re not the only “self” in here
you’re surrounded, now drop and cry
I want my mom!
It’s too late to take this back
‘cause we’re saying and that’s that.

Then the parade starts.

I’m an astronaut.
A singer.
A writer.
And a referee!

An actor.
A genius.
A prostitute.
And a  lazy bastard!

An architect.
A dancer.
A scientist.
And an engineer!

And our grandmothers are here with us too!

I try to stop them.

You’re giving me a headache.

We don’t care!

You’re really giving me a migraine.

We couldn’t care less!

You should because this body will only last for so long.

They pause, look at me, then at each other, at me again, and at each other, and they hold hands and start dancing around me.

Cheers to us,
‘cause we ain’t leaving!
Cheers to us,
‘cause we’re all here!
Reunited, forever together!

The circle tightens around me and before I can do anything about it they pick me up, throw me up in the air and catch me, over and over and over again, making me sick.

Cheers to you for loving us!
Cheers to us for loving you!
Cheers to everyone in this room,
together forever!

I fall for one last time but nobody picks me up again.

I stand up. I’m outside in the park. A doctor stares at me and I wonder what the hell it all must have looked like. I look around, but I’m alone. It’s actually rather cold and I’m only wearing my pajamas, so I walk back into the building and find my way to my room, hoping the show won’t start again.

Wishful thinking.

They all know what day is today.

Ballad of a Multiple

Created: Aug 17, 2012


Document Media

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