Headless Hysteria: The Perilous Day of a Teenage Girl Detached from her Body

I could barely believe it when I woke up to the sight of my own body, wandering aimlessly around the room. A muffled shriek escaped my throat - or rather, where my throat should have been. Instead, I found myself actually holding my head, quite detached from the rest of me, in my own hands. My heart pounded inside my chest - no, really. I could physically see it thump against my ribcage from the position of my head. It was astonishing, stupefying, and just downright strange! "Breakfast!" Mom's call came shrill from downstairs, stabbing a bolt of pure panic into me. Pictures of me faceplanting into my cereal flashed through my mind, and I felt lightheaded - another peculiar sensation when your head isn't attached. The situation was clearly beyond a routine call to the nurse or popping a pill. I needed to think fast, to somehow get through the day without my parents discovering my... well, my predicament. My body, thick as a post, it seemed, continued its blind wanderings. That wouldn't do. I had to figure out how to get that thing to hold me - hold my head, I mean - properly. As though hit by divine inspiration, an idea occurred to me. I gently pawed my body's shoulder – weirdly, I could still feel it - coaxing it to comply. Like a well-trained dog, it moved, fumbling clumsily toward the sound of my voice. I guided it, trying not to panic as I directed it to pick up - well, me. There were a few missteps, of course - literally, as my head bobbled around in my own hands. Frustratingly, every time that happened, my body paused as if absolutely baffled. But practice makes perfect, and soon, my body seemed to get its act together. After an agonizingly long struggle and countless missives of 'you can do it,' I eventually succeeded in getting my body to hold my head securely in place. I draped a scarf around 'my' neck, fashioning it into a makeshift sling. It was eccentric, sure, but eccentric was far preferable to downright bizarre! Every minute downstairs was a nerve-wracking exercise in maintenance. I made sure to speak softly, hide my lack of eating, and not flinch when Dad tried to place a fatherly hand on my shoulder. My antics might have appeared quirky, but well, they knew I was a bit of a character, didn't they? It was an impossibly long day, filled with umpteen close calls, and, embarrassingly, countless laughter fits brought on by the sheer absurdity of the situation, my voice sounding weirdly hollow without a body. In the end, though, I somehow got away with being detached. Literally. I felt a heady mix of relief and surreal mussed-up victory when I finally got to tuck myself in - both me and my body. Well, my existence was admittedly eerie, and perhaps I needed to reevaluate my nightly horror movie consumption, but boy, wouldn't this make a heck of a diary entry!