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  • Writer's pictureKimber Severance

There's A Fly Inside My Head

A fly got stuck in my head today. I must have left a window open. I first noticed it when I heard the buzzing behind my ears, then behind my eyes, then behind my forehead. It moved around in a panic, knocking over my precariously placed decor, the books on the bookshelf, the end table where I set my tea, and the chair by the window where I drank the sun.

For a while I didn't pay the fly any mind. I tried my best to ignore the nuisance, right my things, and move on with my day. I left a window open to let him know he could leave. I figured the fly would eventually leave on its own.

A few days went by and the flies buzzing would get worse, then better, then worse again. It tormented me from inside my own mind, making me think it had died, then reminding me it was still there, stuck in the space behind my eyes.

The window wasn't working and I couldn't exactly reach inside my own head to pull it out, so I tried talking to someone, but it was difficult to convince anyone I was serious. All anyone would say was, "It's all in your head," and I would scream, "I know!" My hope of a cure dimmed. I began to wonder if I would have to live with the buzzing forever.

That's when I decided on a plan. If no one else would peer inside my mind and remove the offending fly, then I would have to go in there myself. It took me a while, but eventually I crafted a perfect replica of myself that was small enough to fit inside my ear and begin the journey deep within my brain.

My little me trudged inside wearing a poncho and boots, carrying a flashlight. But she could only go so far before running into an obstacle she couldn't pass. First there was shrubbery and overgrown vines keeping her from getting through the forest. I gave her an axe so she could get through it, which helped a little. But then she came across an old wall, so I gave her some rope to carry.

My little me became more and more resourceful on her own. When she came upon a great lake she used the chopped wood from the forest and built a boat. When she got hungry she found food in the trees and fish in the lake to be grateful for. Before I knew it, she had carved easy to navigate paths and finally found my house. There the fly still buzzed, ignoring the open window and clumsily knocking things over. Luckily, she was able to easily remove the fly and cease the buzzing I couldn't find myself.

After all that effort to tame the terrain and find my house, she decided to make her home there, and I didn't mind. She was no longer a replica of me. She was better. I couldn't think of anyone better to live in my house, and keep the flies out.

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