So, people talk to each other. Maybe sometimes they talk to themselves alone. On their way to work in their car or hidden at the back of the bus, thinking no one can hear, trying to sort things out. Tired of the loneliness inside their head. Creating other people, other voices, to be there for them. They need it. At least, they believe they do, truly. Considering how strange it is, you’d think they wouldn’t even try. But loneliness is much worse than stigma, that’s for sure, and no ugly stare from some random stranger is ever going to stop them from calming their echoing void inside. You’d be surprise what the voices have to say sometimes, they’re quite amusing when they try. Sometimes they don’t, and it’s quite daunting to even try listening. Or giving them a voice to begin with. You’d think talking like that makes people insane, or that they must be insane to talk to themselves to begin with. Maybe not. Maybe they’re the sane ones. Don’t you think? Maybe not
What do I have to say that makes sense? Through all of these last few days, I haven’t had a steady or core feeling. Maybe that one thing is important, or maybe that other one, actually, maybe all of them are, but how do I make sense of it all? How do I even bring them together in this entity that is me? What is meaning? Who am I? As a person, what really defines being myself? I’ve tried so much to find out these past few months, pushing aside this “fake” self. Or is this persona still part of me and I’ve just become more of certain people through growth? I was at this wedding, a few years ago with my then partner, and it was one of these religious ones, so a lot of what you could do was limited down to eating and talking. Now, I was extremely tired. I think both me and my brother and our fellow partners were, you know, being used to staying up until 2 or 3 in the morning and waking up well into the afternoon. Being summer and all, holiday or sorts, routine was gone through the wi