I saw it, whether for just a second or for thousands of years, I glimpsed the other side. For the first time in my entire thirteen-year existence, I had actually seen through the almost impossibly thin barrier separating our eyes from the visions of the dimension that only entered the eyes of the gifted-the ones who believed. Some ask what dimension I am speaking of, as if trying to mock my gift and trick me into thinking they are not at at the same time. Paranoid, they name me. Ha, they are merely covetous of the ability I possess to see past the dull normality of life and recognize the paranormal, what others consider the strange or the weird.
Paranormal and paranoid have something in common don't they? The "para" is at the front of each word. Why is this? I do not have the knowledge of what it means. "Normal" is in my vocabulary but "noid" is not. Perhaps, if paranormal means "not normal," then "para" means not, and "normal" obviously means normal. Wouldn't paranoid come to mean "not noid"? If noid were a word, its definition would have to be "ignorant to the uneasily seen events that are constantly happening around us." If this is so, then why should I care if others find me paranoid, or in other words, not as ignorant as they are? Is ignorance a gift? No. Is ignorance bliss? Perhaps it can be for some, but I find myself content knowing the truth about the world. Therefore I have come to reason that my paranoia, or lack of ignorance and wealth of knowledge, would have to be considered a gift. Why do they mock my gift?
My gift had just allowed me to see through the shallow wall that held out eyes to only see the familiar world. What had I seen? For the most diminutive amount of time, I had fixed my eyes upon a small girl. Her eyes blazed into mine, with a look of absolute fury and pain. The lack of time caused me to miss the details of her appearance, except for the eyes. I could not even recall what color they were, only the way they pierced me, the way they sent millions of tiny needles slashing into my soul, paining it even if the needles only remained for less than the time it took an eye to blink. The thought of my great accomplishment, the thought of seeing what I had believed in for so long, caused my eyes to remain in their fixed position, staring continuously where the girl had been standing. It was these moments, these moments of realization or possibly triumph, which later would bring absolute ridicule.
My older sister would have to be considered the ultimate portrayer of noidness. She had cast herself to live in a world where the only major decisions in life involved either members of the opposite sex, her appearance, or pointless gossip about meaningless things. This world was so shallow that if it were a pool of water, it would not even be visible, for being so microscopically small.
It was at my point of triumph when she decided to appear. I felt her eyes looking at me. I can always feel them looking at me, constantly. They can always see everything I do. However, they watch me from yet a third side of the triangle of the universe, so therefore their eyes do not burn me nearly as much as those of my skeptical sibling. This was how I was able to detect her arrogant presence instantly.
"What are you doing, freak?" she asked me.
She walked up to me and waved her hands in front of my still eyes, and I found myself wondering how we could possibly have been born to the same two people. One of the things she did that greatly irritated me was never calling me by my true name. Although I hated the name for its common nature, it was the name that had been given to me even before my entrance into the world, and "freak" was not a satisfying substitute.