The Voices in my head.
The Voices begin with a capital letter. The Voices are not pets. The Voices are not my friends. The Voices do not surrender to me; my mind surrenders to them.
They have their own individual consciousness and they live inside me like parasites who feed on my experiences, feelings and thoughts.
Though they are individuals they are still part of me; influenced and evolved through all that I see and hear. They are parts of my soul; they are the collective of my mind. I am the vessel that carries them, I am their home.
They nest in me and pull my strings, I am a puppet at the mercy of their whims. I try to fight but this only seems to make them louder and all I hear is the collective drone of their wicked words.
I try not to listen. I really do. I try to recognise my own voice but it's been so long since it made any decision that it is barely a whisper in the crowd that inhabits my head and even if I did make out my weak words would I even recognise it as my own voice; so familiar now are the Voices.
The Voices are clever. They desire no real harm to come to me for they believe in self-preservation, but they feed off my torment. They push me to the limits but hold back at the edge for if I fall, they fall too. The Voices are clever that way.
I can sometimes manage to quieten the Voices. I work hard to ignore them. I keep busy. I keep happy. I smile. For a short while I believe that maybe they have gone. I let my guard down. I relax. I enjoy the quiet. But the Voices always come back; they were never gone at all. They were just pretending for their own amusement. They return louder and harder and demand more from me as if to compensate for the brief respite. They expect me to be grateful.
I am not grateful.
Sometimes the Voices come out. They manifest themselves as monsters. Monsters with Voices. Some may call them moods but that would be too kind a word for them. They are monstrous. The Monsters have their own personalities, their own characters. One has a temper; is angry and frustrated, another is jealous and bitter and full of self-loathing. They all have their own agenda. They all have their own plan of sabotage.
I must not listen.
I must not listen.
I can sometimes control the monsters. I can push them to the back of my head out of the way and quieten their Voice but they are always there waiting, hibernating in the dark caves of my mind. They could probably sleep there forever if I let them. I could go about my life free of the Voices, never possessed by the monsters.
But that wouldn't be much fun would it?
Instead I go to the back of my head. I go to that dark cave. I seek out those monsters. I listen for their sleeping whispers.
And I kick the beasts.
I want to hear them. I want to fight them. I want to be possessed by them. They are my curse and my burden and my enemy but without them I am lost. I am but a shell. Without them I am bored with life. They are me and I am them. Without them I am helpless.
I must listen.
The Voices hurt. The Monsters torment. They drive me slowly insane and they never let up.
It makes me feel alive.