I shared recently about having two internal monologues. Fear of admitting the truth to myself kept my details restrained. But I can’t stop describing my experience to myself so for an escape I’ll write.
Most often, and always when out of control, two distinct voices roll from their ear, across the front of my brain, and fade at the ear of the other. Both voices are genderless, although the left one has a lower tone and the right a slightly higher tone. And with the sound comes the visual scroll of the words. The words matching their voice emerge from their ear in clear black ink across a white strip of paper the width of a single line, fitting into the void between my brain and my skull. The words from right to left are in proper order while the words from left to right are scrolling in backwards text. When both voices are clambering to be heard the thin lines of text overlap as they move. The left voice is more rational and direct. The right voice is less steady – their sentences can move too fast to understand or be completely jumbled. And, embraced by the sounds from my ears and the letters across my skull, lies a colorful explosion radiating outward.
Sometimes when that oval mass in the back of my head calms down it becomes a wrinkly gray thing. That’s when I’m able to pull from the back center of my head, along a trench on the top of my brain, to place a third voice at the front center of my skull. That voice is mine. I can’t always pull it forward but I always try. I can usually concentrate on a topic with it when I have it out, although that skill is quickly diminishing. When I can’t focus using my middle mind I can usually at least replace the incomprehensible sounds with a song on repeat. Best case it drowns out the other two voices and covers their written words. Worst case it is merely louder and more dynamic than all the other senses, adding to the chaos but with a brighter subject choice. I have some control over the thoughts of my middle voice. The other two are always mean.
Not every day is the same. The variety is part of what’s so scary. But overall that is my experience with my internal thoughts.
Fuck.
thebadgerspath.com 