not pretty

the noise has gotten more.  yammering and squabbling and scolding.  i'm not hearing voices, the way folks think as is typical for people with schizophrenia; no, these voices are me, in my head.

we all have that internal voice, and most of us recognize that we have more than just that one.  we might say, "then i heard a lil voice, my mom, saying honey don't wear purple, it makes you look like warmed over death"  (or is wormed over?).  or then i heard myself saying "don't talk back to me" and when did i become my parents anyway.  or some of us call it our conscience or our rational voice, or internal reasoning, or id or ego or superego or whatever.

i simply call all those voices of me, parts.  as in, "well part of me wanted to eat that gallon of peanut butter fudge ice cream and then this other part lectured about how fat i already am and shouldn't i really be going to the gym anyway".  as in, "part of me wants to say this, and another part is saying that i should keep it to my self".

sometimes the noise in my head ratchets up.  my internal chaos becomes worse than any external environment then.  because there is no escape.  there is no walking away.  there is no turning up the radio.  there is no getting off this bus.  this, is me.

and it ain't pretty.