I Should Have Known Myself That Much

I was just sitting on the blue monoblock chair inside the university student publication office, trying to think of something productive. But I ended up facing the flat screen desktop computer, reading some of my old feature articles, still hoping to find something worthwhile. I did not.

A little bit agitated, I tried to disturb my inner thoughts, stood up, sang my favorite gaga songs in a vibrato mode and sat down gain, not minding my co-staffer who was doing a revision of an article that she needed to comply with. I never imagined until then that I was already disturbing her. And most of all,I never imagined until then that I was doing that everytime I am in the publication office. That gave me an idea.    

      

I went to Google and encoded the term multiple personality disorder in the search box, a disorder that I wanted to write for my next features article, pressed enter and eagerly waited for the logged connection which happen almost all the time. I scrolled on the results and opened each link one by one on another tabs. One tab was about the history, others talked about the symptoms and the likes, still related to the disorder, but what made me shiver was the tab where you have to answer a set of questions, 50 at most, and identify your personality disorder. I did.

I typed my age and my gender with my damp calloused fingers. I thought about the privacy of this link, but still continued after knowing that everything will be private. Guided by my drive to at least have an intuition of what I might be suffering, I answered each question honestly, religiously even, like it was a midterm exam in one or our major subjects. I crumpled my nerves and a prickle of sweat started to fall on my left cherry cheek, although the already old, sometimes not functioning air conditioner was on.

The office slowly became busy with the staffers, some stayed inside to savor the icy cold prick that caresses their parched tan skin, and some were doing their assigned task, scratching their heads when thinking something.  

Thrilled, I continued to read and click on the box of my choice, feeling hands and eyes at the back of me. I felt a tap on my shoulder but I never dared to look at him until I finished answering the test. With cold fingers, I pressed the submit button and waited for the result. I wished that the connection will be slower than usual.

I am suffering from Histrionic personality disorder according to the 70% rate that I got. Woah! My subconscious exclaimed. I got more fuzzed than usual, scared even to know that my fingers trembled, and I immediately clicked the other tab that I have opened a while ago. I tried to hide the smirk in my physique, letting myself believe that that was nothing but a ridiculous result.

Uncontended, I typed the same term in the search box, scrolled the results found, and opened another testing site, and did the same. What have I found out? The same! I also am suffering from the same personality disorder as I scrolled on the results.

At first, I could not somehow believe that those results are true, perhaps because I believe that I am a well fitted person, out-going and free. But the truth struck me like a lightning from the sky, only that that lightning comes from within me. I told myself, after that scenario, that I maybe normal as to my personal looks, but I might also be that someone who still needs to cope with things up, and know himself more.