Quiet and calm are the noises in my head when I wake up. It’s like I’ve conquered a hostile and aggressive world. I let rain drip every pieces of this world back to the ground and the wind will carry the thoughts and whispers of someone. This soothing but painful ritual will reconstruct myself to the world I lay feet on. Feeling the weight of air when I breathe is the first grasp I have on this land. I can feel the bones clustering themselves within every muscle that have been shaken. My mind can feel the cries of agony that every part of my body screams. It’s like starting an engine: it roars and then balances itself.

Your thoughts are slowly taking shape and form in your mind. It builds itself into a city of reflections. You can hear noises and your head dances to it. You see colors of black and white. Even with a bright sunlight your mind can make it feel like a rainy day. It’s a never-ending curse that eats off ideas.

“Who are you?”

Listen to these voices. They want to talk to you. And their desires are very real.

“You have to listen to us! We know what you want!”

But would that make them stop talking? They feed off your life and give nothing back. It is probably better if we satisfy them once and twice and on and on. Can we really deny them satisfaction?

“Ignoring is not a solution.”

Rejection is a very strong way to deal with these haunting speeches that keep on repeating themselves. But rejection will also force these voices to be more adamant about their say. They want to be heard. They echo through your head. They resonate within every limb of your body.

“You will like it.”
“Don’t you want it?”
“Just try it.”

They are eating me alive. I can feel my skin burning from inside. I am slowly going blind. This is the legacy I have been bestowed. Holding your thoughts, your every moments, your feelings.
I keep these secrets. I carry them with me during the day. Upon my shoulders they rest. They travel around with me. I show them different views. I make them listen various sounds. The visage of every soul I cross gives them more reason to what to think. But that would be giving in to the madness. To abandon all the things I witnessed.
The skies are pretty tonight…

“But can’t you see? Don’t you hear it?”
“They never will”

Please, I am tired. Let me rest. This is my home. I don’t need to see nor hear it. I already know what they are.

I am them. “We are you.”