The voices in my head are silent. Not the psychotic voices--I've not had the dubious pleasure of hearing those--but the voices of all the characters that live within my mind and scream to have their stories told.
I used to hear them all the time. There was always someone in there demanding to be heard, with no regard for what I wanted, what I needed to do. Often, there were several someones, all vying for my attention.
Now, there is only silence.
I have no flame. No fire. No haunting voices, and no desire to bring them to life. The song of words has gone out of me, dried up at the touch of the cruel poisons I was told would make me well...make me fit in...make me normal...
It is like wanting desperately to be a mother and finding that you are barren...unable to do the very thing nature made you for. I want to write...and I find the halls and corridors of my mind to be empty, housing only dust, shadow, and broken dreams. The ideas and images and voices that once danced there all lie dead at my feet. And instead of dipping into the well of imagination to taste of its sweet nectar, I find myself choking on dust and ashes.
And I have to wonder...did my last mania burn it all away?
Has my curse finally silenced my voices for all time?
Does this illness cause brain damage? Or was it the meds?
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2 comments:
I'd give about anything to make the voices in my head silent...
But are they psychotic voices...or are they the voices of your imagination demanding that you breathe life into them? There's a difference...
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