Who said that life was always peachy? Whoever did didn’t live on this planet, or, at least not in my body. Now, I admit, I have had those days that leave you lying in bed thinking till falling asleep with a smile on my face. Ab fab, It’s amazing though. I wonder where they went.

What are you up to baby? “What are you up to baby?” I said. Oh, are you going to be doing anything in the afternoon? “Oh, are you going to be doing anything in the afternoon?” Yes, today. “Yes, today.” Shut up, I’m talking to her, quit repeating me. “I would love to go out tonight; you want to go get a bite to eat?” I know you can hear me, stop ignoring me. “… What? Oh sorry, I was just thinking about a place we could go afterwards. Your mom won’t mind?” You dick, stop talking to her, she is mine.

A distinct incident comes to mind when I think about my life changing. Did you ever wonder what babies think? In my head all I hear is English. I think these words before I type them on my keyboard. Babies can’t speak… so do they just babble in their heads? Definitely confusing, I don’t know if I could do that.

Speak up! “What? I can’t hear you.” I said, speak up. “Oh, yeah. I have school this weekend. I hate having to go on the weekends.” You’re ignoring me again. Why do you do this to me?

Inside everyone is a little voice, no matter the beliefs of said culture all speak of a conscience, helping people to their decisions. Mine is a little more powerful, it lives inside me. It eats, sleeps, drinks… it is alive. It has a consciousness. It sits in me when I sit down. It controls me at times. He lives for me. My mother always thought I was creative. I started talking to myself at the age of six. The boy inside me would keep me up all night. I woke my parents up time and time again yelling, trying to quiet the noise in my head. My parents committed me at the age of 12. I was in class and the teacher told me that I should stop talking, but I wasn’t. I looked at her, I felt my lips moving, felt my lungs compressing, but not by my will. He took control of me then. I retrieved it again but not before I was in the principal’s office looking at my mother signing a notice of expulsion from brick creek elementary.

I remember that night. The first night since I can remember with no voice in my head, I slept soundly, in my bed; bundled and calm. I woke that morning and my father was gone. He left my mother. Didn’t think I was normal. He came to me the night before; don’t ask how I remember, while I was asleep. Sleep well, Good bye.”

That’s all the man said. Last time I saw him. For some reason, I also see my mother, knelt in a corner, crying, but only for an instant.