Instant Access To 100,000+ Essays!

vWhen I was twelve, I started hitting myself in the head for no apparent reason. I didn’t want to. I mean, let’s face it, who really wants to smack themselves in the on the side of their noggin. The weird thing about it is that no one saw me sit myself. It seemed that whenever someone turned their head, or when I was left alone, my arm, completely out of my control, would rise up and slap me. I remember the first time I hit myself. I was about ten or so, in the library reading a book by Dr. Spock, and for some reason beyond my simple adolescent comprehension, my left arm raised up, and with the palm of my hand, clobbered myself on my right cheek. I sat there, frightened and flabbergasted. It didn’t happen again for weeks. And I was just as frightened and just as shocked when it happened again. Slowly, over a period of a year or so, the frequency in which I was smacked increased. Always when I least expected it; and always when no one could see. I tried talking to people about it. Never overtly, because I knew inherently that it would sound ridiculous. I would always hint at it, beating around the bush in a comical fashion, trying to gauge if other people were smacking themselves as well. I never got that impre