Five Minus Two Equals Three

When I was younger I played a game.

I felt extremely uncomfortable whenever I had a sensation on one side of the body that I didn’t on the other. For example, if I stubbed my pinky but only on the left leg, I’d feel strange and queasy inside.

So I invented a game: a game of balancing points. If I stubbed the pinky on the left leg, the left side of my body earned a point, so I stubbed my right toe on purpose, to balance it up. This made me feel okay inside again, so I kept going, incorporating the game into my system until it was as natural as breathing.

I played it until one day my mother found me vigorously slapping one side, and then the other. I explained to her that I was trying to swat a mosquito, and had accidentally slapped my left cheek lightly. When, to maintain the score of the game, I slapped my right cheek, I accidentally slapped myself harder than on the left cheek. Then, I slapped myself a little harder on the left cheek to compensate, and a little lighter on the right cheek again. I counted the light slap as a half point, and the hard slap as one point, and was trying to balance each point. However, I slapped myself hard instead of softly a couple of times, and the points table went out of balance.

She seemed not to hear a single word I said, and slapped me hard on my right cheek, telling me never to do this again. After she left, I slapped myself on the left cheek. My slap wasn’t as hard as my mother’s, so I slapped myself twice. I kept going, trying to balance the points.

When I went to school, I learnt this game of mine had a name: Symmetry. I was happy. I was validated.

However, the teacher taught me that symmetry was only visual. I asked her about other forms of symmetry. Could symmetry be auditory? Could it be sensory?

She shook her head. Nature only allowed for visual symmetry because visual symmetry is pleasing to the eye.

What if sensory symmetry was pleasing also?

There is no such thing as sensory symmetry.

I disagreed, of course, and turned rebel. I played the game when the adults didn’t notice me, and kept score in my head when adults were around. Then, at night, I’d remember the mental notes I made that happened to each side of my body, and sneak out of bed to balance the points.

I played the game for a solid five years, and no one found out. Everything went well until I fought with him sister one fateful day. I made fun of her a little too much, and refused to leave her alone. I followed her to her room, and tried to enter. She turned around and slammed the door at my face. I tried to stop her, putting my hand between the door and the frame. She didn’t see, and the door slammed shut cutting two fingers off of my left hand.

My left hand.

Three fingers.

My right hand.

Five fingers.

Five minus two equals three.