There are words inside my head that are spoken by different voices. They want out, these words voices. They scream of independence, curiosity, acceptance. I have ignored them for as long as I can remember. I am thirty-two years old and in pain every day; physical pain that seems to have no stimulus besides stress. I believe that truth prevails, even if only in our own mind. Life and truth will no longer allow me to conceal my words. They are forcing my voices to express the truths of life. Inside my soul, and the trivial amount I know about her, is a tsunami of rampage. She wants to shine and not be afraid to be who she is.

She rests on my left shoulder so heavy that the knots follow the full length of my trapezium, fiber after fiber. She does not sit peacefully. She pulls my head to her mouth, while stabbing me under my shoulder blade with a knife so long it cuts through my head and sticks out of my left temple. She then returns to my body, hoping she has my attention. She waits impatiently. She knocks on my eardrums with constant popping between her temper tantrums that stomps on a nerve, sending waves of muscle spasms through my neck. I feel like I am choking, while hurricane forces of tremors roll across my jaw, until they become the great ocean of constant spasms across my soft and hard palette.

Then I remember to breathe. I have been holding my breath for so long that I forget to breathe. I come back to the moment that is occurring external to my mind and it is nearly impossible to focus on anyone or anything. I know if this life I created continues, I will die.

I don't want to complain about pain every day. I am living the middle-class American dream. Why should I be in pain? So, I use more energy ignoring my voices and worrying if I have made a bad decision with everything I do. I cannot process simple decisions, because I can't hear one voice at a time. "You need to say..." "You need to do..." "You need sleep", "I'm a good/terrible person", "... what about this, what about that"...

Imagine Robin Williams having a rant in your head every day. When do you stop? Where do you go? When do you listen? When do you not listen? When do you just hear? What are you going to do? What are you not going to do? What are you going to do about what you're not going to do? Did I do the right thing? Did I do the wrong thing?

When Robin finally takes a break, I think I have good ideas and I write the words on my mind's parchment. So many papers that I need to go through, figure out how to make it work, how to express it. I've finished some, editing them to meet expectations of so many, disregarding the pages with my expectations.

I am broke- financially, mentally, spiritually. I have lost everything, (if only for a moment), that I believed was right, true and valuable. I wish I could say some of this wasn't my fault. It horrifies me now- my choices and my actions; more importantly, my reactions. I know I have learned from all the horrors and glory. I'm just not sure I was always learning the right lesson. What happens if one day you realize you were taught right but did not understand, or worse, that you were taught wrong? During my loneliest hours when I search for hope, I close my eyes and hear "write". While the voices speak through my fingers, my soul returns. She is happy and I breathe.