Often, as I sit reading or writing, I see things out of the corners of my eyes. Most often it's people that aren't really there. I don't know if I'm slowly going crazy or if I'm becoming a part of one of the many novels I'm writing or maybe I'm just a victim of my overactive imagination. Or maybe there's more to it than that. Maybe all the medication has taken over and I'm just a pawn in the side effects of their hands. Today, Mr. T has decided to make it so I can't stand up straight and makes me walk like a drunk unless I hold onto a wall or a piece of furniture. The combination of Mr. T., Ms. S, the two C's and not enough rest night before last ensure that I slept until noon today. And the corners of my eyes see mice and dogs we don't own and I sink down in my bed.
I haven't gotten used to this new house. We aren't friends. We are strangers still after a year and a half. I don't respect it. I cannot make it mine because it doesn't belong to me. Therefore I don't know it's creaks and cracks. The sounds of the heat coming on. The sound of snow falling off in heaps like slabs of concrete off the roof. I don't understand the moths I think I see out of the corners of my eyes. Sometimes they really are there. But they aren't the scariest thing I've seen. They aren't the scariest thing I've faced.
The worst is the one I face head on in the mirror every day. That stranger that is me, but I don't know. My hair is dark, with a few gray squiggles sticking up. I have to wear glasses and the scars from the surgery are prominent still. But that is not what bothers me. It's the eyes. They are the eyes of someone who has accepted defeat. I am beaten. Mr. and Ms. Side Effect have won. They have drained the living out of my life. I exist. I take up space. I see the world from the corners of my eyes. And that's how I live it, from the corners.
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