What are The Voices?

What are The Voices?

I don´t know. Right now, all I can feel about them is a presence. An inner (or invisible, god-like outer) observer who sometimes approves of, sometimes condemns me. Right now there is approval, inner peace, a warm little glow. I feel it where, on other days, I feel the tension.

With The Voices, I never feel alone – for better and for worse. Their approval gives me a sense of security, like: My cause is righteous, so nothing can happen to me! I feel like The Voices can protect me, they can shield me from danger, they can carry me away if they must. Well, those are visions I have when I get scared of something. At other times, it feels like I´m blessed with such protective powers myself, like I´m projecting those shields, or like I can influence things (traffic lights switching, goals being scored) myself. Like I can use such powers for my own benefit. That only works, though, if I am deserving of such privileges. I must be a particularly good person in order to earn it, and I must not have any petty feelings.

In those situations its mostly me who does the talking. I address the voices, I get confirmation or reprimand, and I accept both mostly unflinchingly, only sometimes I try to negotiate. I guess it´s a bit like constant prayer. In those moments The Voices feel like some outer entities who are above all mankind and judge from afar, and I´m very lucky for having such a close connection towards them. It separates me from other people, since they are unaware The Voices even exist. I sometimes feel like I represent all of mankind to them, like I have to speak for everyone.


So, here´s the thing: The Voices have been with me for at least 15 years. And while I didn´t always believe in the explanations I found for their existence, I always believed in them. Those states of mind – being the chosen one versus being everything I hate – have always been there. I think to some extent it were The Voices themselves who socialized me, who were responsible for how I saw myself. Maybe they filled a void which my parents had left, I don´t know. Maybe, also, I never even listened to anyone else because I had the voices. Those two interpretations are good representations of the two different states of mind.

The terrifying thing is that I feel like without them I´m nothing. I feel like I have no character strength of my own, it all comes from The Voices and the discipline they subject me to. It all comes from the feeling of being chosen of sorts. Without that, why would I hold myself to any standards at all? When I´m not under that spell, then what do I think and how do I behave?

Funny. I was starting to think on my own after the break in this post, instead of harmonizing with The Voices, and suddenly I´m back to condemnation. Damn, I don´t want to make this any more real by saying “they punish me, they don´t want me to be independent”. “They” do and want nothing, if anything I am delusional.

But why “if anything”? Because I have a nasty feeling that my interaction with these voices is a little too active in order to pose as a victim here. A part of me cooperates with them, in some kind of twilight zone between “in my head” and “for real”. I grew up in that twilight zone. I feel like I was raised more by The Voices than by real people. I feel like I´ve passed the point of no return. I cannot become sane and return to reality. I cannot live without those voices, as it would mean that the last 25 years of my life have been worthless and nonsensical.

I wonder to what extent The Voices are an explanation themselves. I sometimes have moments in which it feels like I´m thinking up their responses myself. It is still very important to me, though, that most of the time I´m not doing this myself, that they are real.

I think The Voices are a strong reason why I do not really live my life. They keep me out of this world, make it seem unnecessary to strive for anything, they make me feel like I´m completely different from everybody else. It´s not anything anyone did. I can accuse my parents of many things, but The Voices are not their fault. They are my very own craziness, and they are the greatest part of my inner history, of my identity even, since I always failed at finding an identity in outer roles.

Sometimes I think that most of my life has been madness and I want to resign. Then I turn it around and say that madness has been a great part of my life – and suddenly I have a story. An identity, possibly.



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