Doomsday
Doomsday
Tears tumbled down my face. I hadn't a clue why I was crying. By all means, it would appear as if I had a lovely day with my family and two of Liddy's friends. The young girls were dressed up to the nines even though we were just going to the stupid shopping centre which I had been to a million times before, looking as presentable as a pile of vomit. My mother was wearing a casual-but-cute outfit, her dyed blonde hair bouncing on her shoulders with that newly-washed freshness. Together, they looked like a big, happy family, a rainbow, with a sullen, forlorn cloud ruining the picture. I was wearing an unironed top, unironed shirt, dirty and unironed jeans with a scuffed pair of shoes and a red silk ribbon tied around my neck. I could tell by the way my Mom kept prodding me into clothes shops that she was trying to get me to at least change my wardrobe if not luminate it completely. I glanced at all the tops and such and when I saw something I liked, I couldn't have it. They were from the Men's section and she refuses to buy anything from there.
The whole place was humid with sweat and body heat due to the amount of people crammed into the place and the horrible sunshine. I felt dizzy whenever the temperature changed slightly.
I guessed that it all properly started to go that little nuts when we went into Woolworths. I let my feet move me around, only noticing the scenery change every-so-often. I suddenly realized that I was alone. A sudden panic led an icy trail up my spine.
"Mom?" I squeaked, barely audible. My feet started moving, my little squeaking going largely unnoticed. I spotted Mom and the girls at the Barbie section. My feet didn't recognize them, neither did my squeak. I kept walking past them, asking for my Mom. I suddenly stopped. I had wandered into the Doctor Who aisle and I giggled. I'd found her. I stared at a doll of The Doctor. He looked cross-eyed as a doll. I let my fingers touch the plastic surface, as if I was touching his face. My obsession. He was my mother, lover and friend. He just seemed to control so much...
...Yet he never knew who I was. He probably couldn't have given a toss about another seventeen year old girl freak, who is one obsession away from a restraining order. An ugly one at that. I knew it was utterly hopeless but I couldn't help it. I couldn't even tell if it was just the character I wanted or the actor. I knew that David Tennant was just doing a job, like I was supposed to decide what I wanted to do in the future. He ate, slept and shat like every other stupid human on this stupid Earth. I started to think about how badly I wished I wasn't human. It would have made sense, the weirdness, the refusal to obey simple rules, the escalation of cleaning to philosophical heights, the feeling of being in the wrong skin, that would have all made sense if I was a Time Lady or whatever. I would have called it my Mom being dirty with a Time Lord, then getting her pregnant with me. Others call it an overactive imagination and possibly Borderline Personality Disorder. I didn’t think that feeling so alien meant having a mental disorder. I wasn't crazy; I was an alien only I didn't have any proof.
That's why I was crying when we got to the train station. I hated being stuck between humanity and ET. I felt like if I couldn’t tell which type of person or creature I was then I had no business being alive. I started to despise every heartbeat, every breath, and every blink. My Mom kept asking what was wrong but I just couldn’t tell her. What did she know of my universal predicament? I told her I was alright, just tired and sick. I took the bus home and landed on my floor, crying vigorously. I managed to lift myself up and slip on my Doctor Who soundtrack. I pressed the forward button enough times to the Doomsday track. I felt calmer when I started listening to it, the slow glissandos of Melanie Pippingham's voice washing over me like a tide. I was still crying and I felt worse than I did when I started crying but I calmed down.
"Doctor." I said, trying to drown out everything. I stared at a poster of him on my wall. "Doctor, I need you! Doctor. Doctor. DOCTOR!" My voice rose with utter urgency. The tears fell faster as my speech turned into screaming. My voice cut out, like I had worn out my vocal chords. I let my head fall into my lap, my tears becoming bitter. He wasn’t coming. He was never coming. He couldn't care less.
I started thinking; that's how everyone was. Couldn't care less about her. She's a psycho. She’s ugly. She’s fat. She’s an attention seeker. She's a swot. She's a poser. She’s gay. She's this, she's that.
I picked up the old linen belt that I had been practicing with for the last few days, a loose slidable knot in place; I pushed some cloth through the knot and placed the loop over my head, tightening it around my neck. I threaded some of the cloth over a loose nail hammered into my bedroom door. I started to pull. It was easy to get there, just to stay still as I got dizzy and the world blanked out.
The Doctor never came in time and now "She's dead."
Look what you made me do.
The whole place was humid with sweat and body heat due to the amount of people crammed into the place and the horrible sunshine. I felt dizzy whenever the temperature changed slightly.
I guessed that it all properly started to go that little nuts when we went into Woolworths. I let my feet move me around, only noticing the scenery change every-so-often. I suddenly realized that I was alone. A sudden panic led an icy trail up my spine.
"Mom?" I squeaked, barely audible. My feet started moving, my little squeaking going largely unnoticed. I spotted Mom and the girls at the Barbie section. My feet didn't recognize them, neither did my squeak. I kept walking past them, asking for my Mom. I suddenly stopped. I had wandered into the Doctor Who aisle and I giggled. I'd found her. I stared at a doll of The Doctor. He looked cross-eyed as a doll. I let my fingers touch the plastic surface, as if I was touching his face. My obsession. He was my mother, lover and friend. He just seemed to control so much...
...Yet he never knew who I was. He probably couldn't have given a toss about another seventeen year old girl freak, who is one obsession away from a restraining order. An ugly one at that. I knew it was utterly hopeless but I couldn't help it. I couldn't even tell if it was just the character I wanted or the actor. I knew that David Tennant was just doing a job, like I was supposed to decide what I wanted to do in the future. He ate, slept and shat like every other stupid human on this stupid Earth. I started to think about how badly I wished I wasn't human. It would have made sense, the weirdness, the refusal to obey simple rules, the escalation of cleaning to philosophical heights, the feeling of being in the wrong skin, that would have all made sense if I was a Time Lady or whatever. I would have called it my Mom being dirty with a Time Lord, then getting her pregnant with me. Others call it an overactive imagination and possibly Borderline Personality Disorder. I didn’t think that feeling so alien meant having a mental disorder. I wasn't crazy; I was an alien only I didn't have any proof.
That's why I was crying when we got to the train station. I hated being stuck between humanity and ET. I felt like if I couldn’t tell which type of person or creature I was then I had no business being alive. I started to despise every heartbeat, every breath, and every blink. My Mom kept asking what was wrong but I just couldn’t tell her. What did she know of my universal predicament? I told her I was alright, just tired and sick. I took the bus home and landed on my floor, crying vigorously. I managed to lift myself up and slip on my Doctor Who soundtrack. I pressed the forward button enough times to the Doomsday track. I felt calmer when I started listening to it, the slow glissandos of Melanie Pippingham's voice washing over me like a tide. I was still crying and I felt worse than I did when I started crying but I calmed down.
"Doctor." I said, trying to drown out everything. I stared at a poster of him on my wall. "Doctor, I need you! Doctor. Doctor. DOCTOR!" My voice rose with utter urgency. The tears fell faster as my speech turned into screaming. My voice cut out, like I had worn out my vocal chords. I let my head fall into my lap, my tears becoming bitter. He wasn’t coming. He was never coming. He couldn't care less.
I started thinking; that's how everyone was. Couldn't care less about her. She's a psycho. She’s ugly. She’s fat. She’s an attention seeker. She's a swot. She's a poser. She’s gay. She's this, she's that.
I picked up the old linen belt that I had been practicing with for the last few days, a loose slidable knot in place; I pushed some cloth through the knot and placed the loop over my head, tightening it around my neck. I threaded some of the cloth over a loose nail hammered into my bedroom door. I started to pull. It was easy to get there, just to stay still as I got dizzy and the world blanked out.
The Doctor never came in time and now "She's dead."
Look what you made me do.