[Day 20] Narration

“Mom. Mom.” I demanded, squaring my eight year old shoulders.

“What is it?” she asked lazily.

“There is something wrong with my head.” I inform her bluntly.

“Oh?” My mother raises her eyebrow.

“Yes. It’s narrating.” I explain. She looks at me, not understanding. “Every time something happens or someone talks, my head makes it like I’m reading a book.” I extended.

“That’s… different.” She says. “But I don’t think something is wrong with you.”

“But it’s annoying!” I cry out in frustration. “Ah! See? There! My mind just described what I said as ‘I cry out in frustration’. Make it stop!”

“I can’t help you there.” My mother says, amused. As my eyes watched her walk back into the kitchen, my chattering mind narrated her every move.

I growl in another burst of frustration and my feet padded across the carpet to my room. Burying my face in my pillow, Mitchell, my old preschool friend who is now my mind’s housekeeper, yells at the invisible narrator.

“Shut up! JUST SHUT UP!” he yells, his blonde bowl cut bouncing as he storms around the confines of my mind.

“It’s no use, Mitch.” I remark wearily back to him, inside my own head.