Fiction

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I call them voices in my head. Although, when you say something like that out loud it seems a joke. People respond by smiling and they tilt their heads and they say, “Aren’t you funny.” But aren’t I?

They clamor inside my skull, voicing their concerns and their catcalls. They each seek an audience with the master voice who rules the roost. Sometimes they overpower him and have their say for a time. It is in those times that I suffer the most. Because in those times I am lost to their shrieking and their incessant chatter.

I hear the voice that tells me that I’ve done wrong. He doesn’t confront so much as he comes alongside and patiently reminds. He uses any opportunity that affords itself to bring to my attention the evil of my actions. The harsh word, the angry thought, the deceitful response, the hypocrisy, the violent slam of my fist, and the unending emotional strain that I put upon others.

I hear the voice that likes to list my failures. He is an anchor resting at the bottom of my brain, never moving, but always speaking. He tells me that I didn’t or couldn’t, wasn’t able to or forgot. He tells me that it might have been, if only, and wouldn’t that have been a good idea? He is my reminder that I am not what I had hoped to be.

I hear the voice that warns me to fear. He is the whisperer who blows in front of my conscience daily, clearing the way of unforeseen danger. He is my protector and my oppressor. He keeps me from action, from stepping, from risking, from living.

I hear the voice of the mouse inside me who knows that I cannot. He tells me that I am not the one, that I am not strong enough, and reasons that it is unnecessary anyway. The mouse is small but his mouth is large. He devours my ambition, and spits it back out as false contentment.

I hear the voice of ignorance. He is a bumbler, a stutterer, a loudmouth and belligerent. He knows the truth and will not silence himself long enough to recognize his error. He speaks before I think and he spurs action before my resistance is offered.

I hear the voice of the antichrist. I hear all these voices as antichrist. They speak lies and they distort truth. But most damagingly they prevent me from existing. I am not antichrist, I am christ and the Christ in me wants desperately to step out and act. He wants to move into the world and nurture growth. He wants to create things of beauty and give them to those who have none. He wants to be a saviour and to save. He wants to live out loud and be heard!

But I hear these voices in my head and people think I am being funny. Am I?

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