Words and photography by Kiera Muers Illustrations by Stephanie Riddington
Dear diary,
They must have snuck downstairs last night. They have destroyed my accomplishments, so they can’t deny it. There is no way I would be so careless as to leave one light switch facing the opposite way to the rest. I have rechecked them 15 times today, so they should be safe now. When I came back from one of my inspections, there was a lipstick mark on the ring of my mug. How did they think I wouldn’t notice? I attempted to stay calm, but I had to smash it. Who could possibly use it now?
1,2,3,4,5. Sometimes it causes my skin to crack, but I think that’s a small price to pay. They might start to think I am getting ’better’ as they like to put it.
Dear Diary, It’s 5pm, Friday. My daily routine went smoothly. As it usually does when there are no interruptions, if only it was always this easy. 5:05 – woke up. 5:10 – wiped myself down with five baby wipes 5:15 – Took a 25 degree shower and thoroughly washed five times. 6:05 – Ate breakfast; one slice of toast, no butter, placed exactly in the center of the plate. Water boiled at 105 degrees, tea bag brewed for 50 seconds with five milliliters of milk stirred in. I completed my morning essentials by 10:05, as always. They must have snuck downstairs last night. They have destroyed my accomplishments, so they can’t deny it. There is no way I would be so careless as to leave one light switch facing the opposite way to the rest. I have rechecked them 15 times today, so they should be safe now. When I came back from one of my inspections, there was a lipstick mark on the ring of my mug. How did they think I wouldn’t notice? I attempted to stay calm, but I had to smash it. Who could possibly use it now? They woke up at 10:13: probably on purpose. They know how uncomfortable it makes me. They only had to wait two more minutes. I fell asleep after that, exhausted from my morning rituals. I woke up at 15:15, perfect timing for dinner. Although now I wish I had slept through it. The plate they left on the table for me was a mixture of textures, a clash of colours. I could not envision anything worse if I tried. I ate 5 bites to be polite but the blend of different flavours became too chaotic and I had to stop. We rowed for 5 minutes. They had the nerve to call ME crazy. I counted to 5 to collect myself as that always calms me down. In each number I can feel the tension leaving my body, reaching the number five can only be described as euphoric. 1,2,3,4,5. I focused all the negative energy into my evening routine, I worked so hard that I finished all my rituals early: it was unsettling. So unsettling that while they were sleeping I rewashed the dishes. I know they wouldn’t have done them properly: each one 5 times of course. 1,2,3,4,5. Sometimes it causes my skin to crack, but I think that’s a small price to pay. They will think I allowed them to do the washing up for once. They might start to think I am getting ’better’ as they like to put it.
Dear diary, It’s Friday, 5pm. It’s happening again. I did not want to talk to them so they said to write my feelings in here, the stranger that is. They are lucky it’s the 5th day. They arrived unannounced and just let themselves in, as if they own the place: intruding on my bliss. Everyone knows I do not like company, least of all when it is unexpected. I’ve asked them to leave but they told me they could not until they had finished. Finished what exactly? Who do they think they are? Why are they here? They claim to be here to help but they have made me feel nothing by uncomfortable and anxious. Even when I count to five I cant forget their presence. 1,2,3,4,5 They keep touching things I do not want to be touched, they have no right. They will not even allow me to clean it after, what do they expect? After their dirty fingers have contaminated it. Instead all I can do is wash my hands, 5 times. The skin is cracking. 12345 I think they came to torture me. They put music on and would only play it with the volume at 13. Their smug look was over powering. Who sent them? Anything could happen now. I don’t want to leave my room, but it is nearly time to start my evening routine. 12345 The only positive is the stranger can see the chaos I have been living with; it has proven I’m the normal one.
Dear diary, it’s 5pm, Friday the 5th of May.
It is my favourite day,
5 O’ clock of the 5th day of the week and 5th day of the 5th month: perfect.
As much as I hated the stranger that visited yesterday, they made me see things clearly for the first time. I have been living all wrong.
I don’t need the outside, it just causes chaos.
I can practice my mantras, mental rituals and physical behaviors
without feeling infected from the outside world.
It is like a magical power, a secret that I behold.
The world
my world,
which was once my prison
oyster. It is safe and predictable and controlled by me
essentials I need.
so I am not contaminating
Everything is white.
has become my
I have only the
I now only eat white food,
my body. so you can see the dirt of my things, when I clean and clean and clean and
clean 12345
good
1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 They keep touching things I do not want to be touched, they have no right. They will not even allow me to clean it after, what do they expect? After their dirty fingers have contaminated it. Instead all I can do is wash my hands, 5 times.
The plate they left on the table for me was a mixture of textures, a clash of colours. I could not envision anything worse if I tried. I ate 5 bites to be polite but the blend of different flavours became too chaotic and I had to stop. We rowed for 5 minutes. They had the nerve to call ME crazy.
Dear diary,
Words and photography by Kiera Muers Illustrations by Stephanie Riddington