Sunday, July 15, 2012


For so many years
I have feared

Voices should come from outside your head.
Unless you're talking to yourself inside, then it's okay.
But they should generally be other people's voices
Coming from outside.

After all, if you have voices coming from inside
They take you to an office where you wait for hours
And a man talks to you and asks you questions about the voices
And then gives your mother a paper with a medicine written on it
And you have to take it every single day
To make the voices quiet.

So I made them go away.
Far away.
Hearing voices is bad.
It's like a sickness.
And you only have to take medicine when you are sick.
So if you get better, then you don't need the medicine anymore.
No more voices.

And then, someone finally figured out what was really wrong.
Someone listened.
Someone realized that it wasn't just abuse, a normal case of PTSD
As if PTSD is ever normal
They looked deeper
and they found the others.

But they wouldn't talk to Little Sheep.
All those parts...they could talk, most of them.
Or draw pictures.
Or write.
Or cry.
But only some people could hear them.
Not me, just not me.

Which is why, when at 2:00 this morning, I heard someone say
I kinda freaked out.
More than a little.
And I shouted back.
And Me answered "use a tangle, doofus!"

And I played with the tangle.
Til after seven in the morning.
When I finally cried myself to sleep,
Tangle in hand.

(edited for anonymity, but otherwise, completely true, completely Little Sheep. No false details, just some removed)

1 comment:

  1. Wow. This is so powerful n heart breaking. I know it well


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