05.01.15//10:53 PM
05.01.15//10:53
PM
Dear voice, little voice in my head,
It has been a while since we have
spoken. It has been a while since we exchanged a glance and a nod to one
another. There are some things I want to tell you; actually, there are some
things I need to tell you. I let you win this last month that has passed. I let
you back in, and I wish I hadn’t. I always imagined what you would look like if
you were to be a physical human being like I, but I can’t imagine anything. I
can’t find a physical way of portraying you. I don’t know how. All I can hear
is your voice. I can hear your constant urgent voice that never ceases to prod
until my mind can’t handle your cries of anguish that create panic in my brain.
Why do you do it? I’ve always pondered that. What is your purpose? You have
never done me any good, so why do you stick around? Or is it I who lets you
stay. You are a made up illusion in my brain and yet you keep me up at night.
You take up long hours that trickle into the night with your voice whispering in
my ear telling me all the things that I don’t know whether I want to hear or
forget; it always seems to be a mixture of both so I listen. My mind gets weak
and I listen to all you have to say, or maybe I’m just listening to myself. At
this point, I’m not sure about anything anymore and trying to think about it
worsens the migraines that have now become a constant resident and made a home
right next to you, little voice. They have planted a garden of weeds so deep
that as much as I try to dig them out they have already spread and engulfed any
open space up. No pill or gulps of water can make them go away. There is
nothing for me to kill them with and so they stay and they grow. You and my
migraines have fallen in love, or at least it seems so; you each have become so
much better at what you do and started a family. Become a pest that seems to
beat every test. For once can you stop and stare and fall off with my growing
stands of hair?
Love,
Ankita
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