I, Natalie Taylor: Psycho

June 12
10:30 a.m.


“Yo Babe!”

“Where have you been?”

“You know…busy…helping my parents.”

That would actually mean that Frankie’s parents were paying for all his expenses. Being rich, they were happy to give him anything he wanted. I think they were happy to let him have anything so long as he didn’t bother him. Why have kids if all you want to do is make sure they’re not around you?


“Nat, so like I’ll be seeing you soon. You know I said that.”

Nat, say no. Remember your broken heart. You’re going to be strong. He’s not going to manipulate your emotions again.

“Yes, Frankie. But you’ve been saying that a lot.” Good girl. Be strong, be assertive.

“This time I mean it too.”

“Yes, I’m sure you do.” Take charge of your life.

“See you soon.”

Now tell him you can’t see him.

“Can’t wait.” No. No. No.

“Hey, don’t be sarcastic. I’ll see you soon.”


Well, at least, that was a first try. I hate myself for being weak. I’m sure a lot of people hate themselves for being weak. I think it’s group dynamics. You know you should be strong, stand up for the right and all that kind of thing, but then, everyone starts sharing their feelings and you start to think maybe you’re not thinking right. And then, you don’t want to seem like you’re the party pooper so BOOM! you join the party. And you hate yourself, but everyone else in the room likes your cooperative and congenial spirit.

Except I’m not in a crowd—only with I, me, and myself. And they all hate me. Okay, maybe I need to see a psych or go to a Catholic church and confess. What if the priest doesn’t forgive me my sins? Wait, no it’s not the priest, he’s standing in for God. But if he stood in and maybe misinterpreted…or if God said he didn’t actually forgive me forgive me…and would that mean both of them didn’t forgive me? Oh great, oh great, am going to walk away with a double guilt complex. I wonder if you can buy guilt insurance—like a double indemnity thing…?


4:45 p.m.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow at 5:30 p.m. sharp. Don’t be late!”

“For what?”

Kate’s got this horrified look on her face. “It’s the concert. With Tav. Don’t you remember?”

I’d forgotten all about the concert but didn’t want Kate to think I’m a complete flake.

“No, I haven’t forgotten per se, just didn’t remember what day it was.”

“You forgot.”

“Yes and no, but now that you’ve reminded me, I remembered. I’ll be there. So technically, I haven’t forgotten. In fact, I’m looking forward to it…now”

Kate’s looking at me like I’m from some alien land where all logic is indefinitely suspended. “We’re starting with dinner, and then there will be the bands.”

“Bands? Why didn’t you tell me there were going to be bands?”

“Because…it’s…a concert. Also you were too busy being offended that I asked Tav if it was okay to invite you. See you tomorrow, Honey Bun.”

Why is it that people remember the things you want them to forget?

“Got it! Saturday the 13th!! Good thing it isn’t Friday the 13th!!”

Wait…are they marching bands? I should have asked her.

No, better not to.

Better not be marching bands…


1:30 a.m.

This is my idea of a wonderful Friday night—watching a movie with my sister.

So it’s late and we’re watching Psycho. I have my sheets drawn up to my eyes, peeping at the TV.

“I can’t believe that you’re watching this thing again! How many times have you seen it?” Gwen’s more horrified at me than the movie.

“Can’t remember!” I do, but even she’d be more alarmed at the number.

“And you know what happens and it still scares you…”

My piercing scream proves that point.

“Oh geez, good night!” Gwen doesn’t like scary movies.


3:15 a.m.

I wake up drenched in sweat.

Not 3:15! Amityville Horror!!!

I was having this nightmare and somehow Norman Bates turns into Walt and I was running and trying to scream…but no one could hear me.

I hate those nightmares. I turned on the lamp, and went in search of chocolate, and have been sitting here staring at one suspiciously for the past five minutes.

Poor Walt! Why is it that you always suspect someone just because you have a weird feeling about them? And these are the chocolates that he gave me.

Maybe I shouldn’t eat them… What if he put something in them?

Oh well, God’s got my life in his hands, and chocolate is a terrible thing to waste.


4:30 a.m.

Finally was able to get back to sleep. But then it was Faith chasing me and trying to kill me with a razor-edged acoustic guitar.

Very worried about my mental state.

Natalie Taylor
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