Pencils, Dust, and Imperfection

"What's your name?"

Christian.

Gloria.

"Billie Joe Armstrong," I answered.

The psychiatrist who was conducting the questionnaire that would help see if I had MPD jotted something down as she asked, "Do you hear any voices other than mine right now?"

I nodded, feeling like a neurotic mess. "I hear them now, and I have for the past few months."

"How many months?" she asked.

These are stupid questions.
I don't see how this is gonna help you.

"About 3 or so," I answered, ignoring Christian.

"Tell me about the voices," she encouraged. "How many there are, what they say, how they make you feel."

I exhaled, finding it difficult and a little tedious to describe them. "I only hear two; a male, Christian, and female, Gloria."

"Did you give them those names, or did they tell that those were there names?"

"They told me," I replied. "Well, sort of. When I first heard Gloria, I was driving and she started talking. I realized she could hear my thoughts, so I actually started talking to her, and I asked her what her name was, and she told me. I later asked her why that was her name , and she told me that it was my subconscious...or something. I don't really remember."

She wrote more things down before asking, "Why did you try talking to her? Did you think she was real?"

I shook my head. "Honestly, I thought I was dreaming."

The psychiatrist nodded. "What about Christian? How did he come about?"

He heard about me from all of the whores.
I'm known well in that community.

Don't you ever stop?
Nobody wants to know about your sexual escapades when they don't even exist.

What are you talking?
You were talking about your non-existent past 6 hours ago, so I should be able to talk about my-

"Shut up!" I ordered them.

The psychiatrist's eyes narrowed. "Are Christian and Gloria talking?" she inquired.

"They're always talking," I informed. "Not to me, but to each other, and it's not even about anything important! They just argue! They argue like an old married couple!

I don't appreciate that simile at all, Armstrong.

"Can you describe them to me?"

I sighed, a headache beginning to develop in my brain. "Christian is the most annoying. He's rude, disgusting, vulgar, diabolical, catastrophic, and...twisted. He always talks about destruction and how he doesn't care for anything.He's sarcastic and immature, too, and whenever he takes over, he screws everything up."

I think you got me down pretty well.

"What do you mean by 'takes over'?" she asked.

I sighed again. "I don't know how to explain it, really, but if I do have MPD, and Christian and Gloria are my other personalities, then that's when I become them. I lose hours of the days; I have blackouts, and that's when I figured one of them had taken over.

She nodded and questioned, "What about Gloria? Describe her for me."

Why do I have to describe myself?"

The psychiatrist looked at me funny. "Not you, Billie. I want you to describe Gloria."

I then gave her a strange look. "Well, I am Gloria."

She leaned forward slightly and looked me in the eyes. "Gloria? Can you describe yourself for me?"

I shrugged a little. "I don't know what to tell you. I'm just...me. Christian makes fun of me for being some kind of a saint, but I don't think I'm all that perfect."

"Why is that?"

I didn't feel like answering that, so I questioned her instead. "Do you have a cigarette? I haven't had one in years; I used to smoke them all the time."

"No I don't. Gloria, could you describe Billie or Christian for me?"

I felt my heart drop. "...Was I just Gloria?"

She looked up at me, a little surprised. "Billie?"

I just nodded. "Did I...?" I asked, but I drifted off.

The psychiatrist sighed a little. "Your doctor will take you back to your room where I suggest you get some rest. I'll review this session and tell you the status of the evaluation early tomorrow."

I was take back to my room where I was left to wait for a report. The waiting was pointless, though, since I already knew how fucked up I was.

I knew I was finally going to get a diagnosis.