The first thing that people used to ask about were the bugs.
“I’m really sorry for that. I was born without a sense of smell.”
“Oh,” they always said. “But don’t you notice the bugs?”
The bugs. Everywhere. Of course I saw them, the way they followed me. Flies, mostly, but many others too.
It’s not that I didn’t want to shower. My mother too made me shower every day, she just never explained why. Nobody told me why. They all assumed I knew and rather than tell me that I smelled bad and how to fix it, they concluded that I was handicapped and thus just stupid or dirty or crazy.
In 22 years nobody told me that. For 22 years everybody assumed I was scary and creepy and stayed away from me. Continue reading →
They never stayed long; never long enough as that I could truly recognize their shape or face or movement. They always appeared when I blinked, or when I moved my head quickly from one side of the room to the other.
Most of them seemed to have a human shape; a few looked like other creatures. I saw them on the streets, at school and in the office, in the cinema, at parties, during sports, in the shower, and most often at night while trying to fall asleep. It didn’t even matter whether I was alone in the room or not. There is no safety from errors of your mental processing. For years I thought it was just my brain that was badly wired; I thought I was the only one that saw them.