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A Little Voice

I don't mean to scare you but do you ever feel that there is a little person running around inside your head, screaming, crying, yelling, banging on closed doors, clawing at the walls. It tries to get out but you keep it shut up, you keep it quiet. You keep that part hidden. Sometimes tears well in your eyes and the person is crying but you keep quiet. You don't let it take control. You make it sit in the corner. It shrinks away, wilting then growing, thorny and ugly, yet it is your own little person and it is beautiful. Your own madness that you keep bottle up. Do you ever have a conversation with that little bit of panic? Do you ever try and calm it down, stop it from crying, reason with it? I do. I don't mean to scare you, however. That little person is so sad, though, so starved, so angry, so frustrated. I hate it but I look upon it as a child who needs loving guidance. That little person is so helpless. It doesn't understand the world. It doesn't know why there are hateful people. It doesn't understand why there are deaths, deforestation, starving, refugee children. It doesn't understand and I can't explain. It's that little remnant of glee that once filled my soul. Sometimes it is happy. Now it is depressed and sad. A string stretched to the point of breaking in the rickety harp of life. Maybe there are other people like me who comfort those crying little beings within them? Maybe I'm not the only one? So why do I feel so alone? A single voice in an ocean. My little voice is crying inside of me. It can't escape the prison I made for it and I can't break down the walls around it. Both of us are joined yet separate. All I can do is whisper to it, comfort it, and hope it stops crying. I don't mean to scare you but do you have that little person as well?




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