Psychic

. .

Sex. It was all I could hear when I woke up.

The couple in the apartment beside mine must have woken up early. They would usually wake up by the alarm, fall back asleep, then wake up again in a panic, rushing around and getting ready for whatever it is they do all day. Not so this morning. Being accustomed to hearing my parents bodies responses to sex, very vanilla sex might I add, it disturbed me to hear pain. From the noises my ears could hear, and from the pleasure mixed with the pain, I could tell it was wanted. Cane, usually the bottom, was one of those strange people who derived pleasure from his own pain. His girlfriend always more than happy to supply it.

I grumbled and rolled over in my bed, folding the pillow over my ears. Knowing it wouldn't help. I sat up, discarding the pillow, and banged my fist on the joining wall. They were right by my head. I know I could have moved the bed, or slept at the other end, but that would have been worse. I had to be positioned a certain way to sleep. Facing the door, on the opposite side of the room, with the door closer to my feet. If I moved the bed, or slept at the other end, I would be inviting countless sleepless nights to consume me.

The audible noise quieted. I gave a sigh of relief and flopped back down. They were still going, but now that my ears could no longer hear them, it would be out of place for me to bang on the wall a second time.

I slid off the bed, only straightening up and placing my feet on the floor, moments before it would have been my face holding me up. My phone lay on the floor beside my bed where it must have landed after I'd gone to sleep. I'd forgotten to take it off my bed after throwing it there. It was five in the morning. Just in time for my run.

It was still dark out as I headed outside, though a few more minutes had a purple glow touching the stars over near the horizon. I ran faster, wanting to catch the sunrise before it turned orange. The park was empty as always, I sat on a bench, looking over the bay to the sunrise. Just watching. I loved that time of morning. It was a little past six, and by the time I was ready to go, the sun had risen enough to light the way back, and I could see other morning joggers filling the paths, with their worn sneakers and dogs. One chick had even ventured to wear a complete pink sweat suit, with her little Chihuahua sporting a pink tutu. I could hear her lungs struggling to keep up with her exertion, and it showed on her face. The little rat-dog was keeping up just fine, his tiny legs moving quickly, but his body easily keeping up.

Which does bring up the point, yes. Human bodies are not the only bodies I hear. Dogs, cats, birds, all animals I can hear also. Not bugs though, thank goodness. I'd never have any peace if I could hear the creepy crawlies that inhabited every nook and cranny of the world.

Thankfully this Chihuahua was not pure bred. For those who do not know, pure bred dogs are riddled with diseases. They aren't natural. Why do you think pugs have such difficulty breathing while a pug-mix breathes fine? Because mixed breeds are animals in their natural state. A Grey Wolf doesn't care if it's breeding with a Red Wolf. Just that it's another wolf that is healthy and able to carry it's pups. Breeds do not exist.

Anyway. I snapped a photo of the sunrise, adding it to the folder in my phone of every sunrise of the last year. This was a mission of mine. For the whole year I planned to catch a picture of the sunrise at the exact same point, from the same spot, every day. I had been at it for seven months now.

I began to run home. I had a day off from the café, thankfully, and planned to spend it wisely. By keeping the hell away from as many people as I could and taking advantage of the silence.

I had some writing to do.

For a few years now, since I turned seventeen I've been writing down my experiences with my abnormality. Simple things. Explaining as best I could what the messages sounded like. Writing down what worked and what didn't in trying to block the messages out. How strong some messages were and the weakness of others. I heard pain and pleasure the loudest. A person touching themselves in some way was one of the quieter messages I could hear. As in a hand on their knee or rubbing their eyes. Not . . . that. I could hear that fine. It involved pleasure after all.