It’s very loud in my head.
- You’re horrible. There’s nothing left for you. Those things you’re seeing…you should’ve died in that crash. *static*
- He was only abusive because you deserved it. That’s why we miss him. That’s why he’s with her because she’s so much better than you. You could never amount to her.
- *maniacal laughter*
- We miss him. Why did he have to die? He made us feel like maybe there was something. We weren’t special, but we weren’t nothing. *sobs*
- JUST DIE! (repetitively)
- You’re a worthless piece of shit.
- Can we call you a failure of a mother at this point? There are no worse words in this useless mind. We only have what you feed us.
- *mindles babbling*
- You belong in an asylum. The quacks can’t help you. We’re just thoughts, remember? The meds don’t get rid of us…just make us…*not understandable*
- *distant stomping*
This is a glimpse of what’s in my head right now. Fighting to write back as myself. It’s hard to a witch back and forth. it happens in my journal. Once it switches over I close my book because it wouldn’t end. I don’t know what to do. I am financially unable to get help. I’m just stuck.