Color My Face (standard:Psychological fiction, 1883 words)
Author: writeinbox	Added: Oct 12 2008	Views/Reads: 4046/2396	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A girl has not figured out her identity, so she entitles herself as another person.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

chipped with terror. “I am a kleptomaniac,” I respond in fear of her 
response.  “A kleptomaniac is someone who steals things when they have 
the money on an uncertainty impulse. “You?” I beckon as I think my mind 
is exquisitely boring. “I am bipolar,” she responds as in terror of how 
I will react. “Oh, so you like jumping for joy, and then winding up 
abusing yourself?” I ask frequently jumping in ritualistic manners. 
“Yes, it is called manic-depression, ever heard of it?” she asks, as 
she is frustrated at my tone. “Basically manic-depression is when 
someone has extreme mood swings, so one's mood would be really 
extremely hyper and high which is called the ‘manic stage' or very low 
which is called manic depression.  When I am manic, my brain goes 
really fast, like I am in an airplane and then I look out the window 
and I see all the houses and I scream in happiness.” “Yes.” I say 
sorry, as she is hurt inside with pain. Talking in a low voice, “Oh.” 
“Good night I have to sleep.” As I turn off the lights. “Good night.”  
Penelope winds up staying up all night. In the middle of the night I 
wake up to the sound of Penelope singing and knocking her head on 
walls.   As she kicks walls she hurts her body and this is not by 
accident.  I wake up to the call of bright lights as I jump into 
euphoric altitudes.  I am jumpy and act very goofy.  Penelope thinks I 
am strange and morbid, but I for once like how I am feeling.  All I am 
waiting for is to find an answer as to why I am held at Medley View.  I 
need to explore and get out in the world, or just have sex.  My vision 
of sex is abusive because I am scared of having sex.  Soon my symptoms 
go haywire and I can't sleep. After I tell the nurse I am feeling very 
euphoric, but they call it manic.  I don't like that word because it is 
like mania.  It actually is called mania.  In the morning we eat 
breakfast and I am served very nasty and impolite food.  I am served 
meatballs and chicken strips at 9 o'clock.  The meatballs look like 
small planets with black residue on them.  This is the way my 
perception receives it. I slowly feel better after this manic episode 
is over, but I still feel like someone else.  In the process of taking 
my medicine I feel a lot better.  Penelope describes to me who Winona 
is. She is a movie star, with black short and steals things, which is 
labeled as a kleptomaniac. Penelope comes dashing down the room, and 
says to me, “Winona, look at yourself in the mirror, do you know why 
you are not yourself?” In the mirror I look as if I am in a saddened 
picture, “No, but, I am after all Winona.” “No you are not,” as she 
steps into the hallway. I said, “ I am Winona.” Again Penelope replies, 
“No you are not.” This was exquisitely wrong, perhaps I should try 
again, or just my head wasn't built right for my mind and brain. I feel 
like I can do anything in the world and fight the evil.  I am so hyper 
and I get confused at the same time.  I still do not know who I am.  I 
am clearly manic. Since I am finally feeling better, the next day Sara 
says I can go home tomorrow. “Winona you can go home now,” Sara holds 
my hand in excitement. I jump out of my seat in joy, “Thanks Sara.” 
This makes me very punctual.  There is just one piece missing.  I still 
don't know who I am.  Penelope shows me a magazine that reads, “The 
Difference Between You And I.” “Here, I brought you a magazine so you 
can once again, clarify who you really are,” Penelope swipes her hand 
on the table, and I can tell she despises me.			 I don't like the way 
she steps on my back like that and hurts my feelings.  S	 he is after 
all helping me out. The magazine is about how to define one person from 
another.  I personally know that I am Winona.  I want to know it 
forever, because I believe so. Penelope and Sara walk through my room, 
clap their fingers as I wake up, and tell me that Winona is a movie 
star and my real name is Leah. “Oh my gosh, what?  This is insane!” 
“Yes we know,” Penelope, remarks involuntary. Now I sit down in my 
chair and act childish.  I soon cry as philosophical words run down my 
eyes down to my wrists and through my ribs.  I am truly heartbroken and 
yet confused. The next thing you know, I am in the car ready to go 
home.  My home is on Grandview, but this time I don't see things, or 
hear her name.  This time I hear Leah is my name, and I see that today 
it is not raining.  So tomorrow will be the day to start my life.  I am 
Leah and I am not insane. 


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