I have a voice in my head. For a long time, I thought I had many voices in my head, but it turned out those guys were inventions of my over-active imagination. Turned out, I have one voice in my head, but the problem is, she’s a bit of a schizo.
A malady of a creative mind? Or a dose of pure crazy?
Sometimes I look back over my life and wonder if I’d be a different person had this happened instead of that, or if I’d reacted differently there; it’s not reflection so much as an IRS style audit. (Um, excuse me, do you have a receipt for this? It says here you gave a bum $50, but without proof, we’ll replace it with the time you ran over that dog…) My problem is also that that Schizo isn’t a kind person. Fortunately, she gets filtered out before she hits the airwaves, so no one really knows the voice is there until you get to know me well. This means I can be one person to others, and a completely different brand of bitch to myself.
She whispers things like, you’re not good enough, if you cared you’d have acted differently and people would like you, you’re fat, you’re ugly, you’re a social retard. You couldn’t write if your ass was on fire. If you eat that entire chocolate bar, you will love yourself again.
The voice almost ruined my life a few times. Until I began to slowly surround myself with people who contradicted it, instead of hanging out with those who affirmed it. Will the voice ever change? Or leave? Doubtful. She has a flip side. She also allows me a different perspective, becomes a tool in the creation and development of characters. I can see both sides of things.
I’m learning, finally, to use her for good. She still slips in those jabs now and then, slides her blade beneath the ribs; but I’m taking Jiu Jitsu. And invested in some Kevlar. She’ll never be a Positive Polly. However, a roll of duct tape and a pen can work wonders.