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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Drama · #1394377
Writer's Cramp Entry
The problem is, you god-damned idiots, that it never stops. Not all the medicine in all your damned pharmacies has made it stop but you keep dosing my system with all the new concoctions you can dream up and sit back in your starched lab coats and wait for me to open my eyes and scream my delight that you stopped it, finally, after 12 years of trying, you stopped it. But I don’t and you don’t.

Voices, male, female, adult, children, a billion god damned voices yipping and yammering in my head and you look at me like I’m nuts and I am nuts. I know it. You know it. Because nuts is anything that ain’t god-damned normal and hearing all these fucking voices is not fucking god-damned normal.

Just once, I’d like a few minutes, a half hour, a day when there ain’t no god-damned voices. I’d even pray to the god who damned me to thank the son-of-a-bitch for the relief. It ain’t never happened. I don’t think it ain’t ever going to happen.

That’s what I don’t think when I’m not wishing you bastards could do what you haven’t been able to do.

Yeah, dip shits, these are tears running my down my face. Tears of fury, tears of terror, tears of anger. What they ain’t is tears of hope. Them tears stopped showing up on my face the first fucking year the voices showed, the first fucking year you started using me as your own private lab rat.

You don’t know why they started. I don’t know why they started. Ain’t nobody in the whole fucking universe can answer that question so I guess we got to conclude they ain’t nobody in the whole fucking universe that can….

Wait a minute. Shut up. All of you shut up!

Wait a minute.

What is that?

I’m trying, you idiots. Just wait a god damned minute.

Something happened. Yeah, I’m trying to figure it out. Something happened that I can’t explain.

ALL OF YOU SHUT UP!!

There, thank you. About god damned time you listened. No, don’t start again.

I’m gonna tell you as soon as I figure it out.

What is that? Is that what it’s supposed to sound like?

Is that it? Is that what quiet means?

There ain’t no voices, shit heads. There ain’t no mother-loving voices.
There ain’t nothing in there but my thoughts. Just…my…thoughts.

That’s what quiet is, huh?

This is weird. This is like being all alone on the Interstate, dropped off by a god-damned unappreciative trucker, kick out of the cab cause you weren’t in the mood right that minute. Then, you got miles to go to the next shelter and nobody stops for a hitchhiker on the interstate. Well, the cops do but that ain’t exactly what you got in mind.

This is fucking weird!

How do you people do this? Just your own thoughts running around in there. I don’t want to know what I’m thinking. It’s bad enough I got to deal with what I’m doing. Don’t need to know what I’m…

Damn right I’m shaking. I’m scared you stupid son-of-a-bitch.

It ain’t right. There ought to be some noise, something to let you know you are still alive, you know? You can’t rely on your thoughts. You could be crazy as hell and them ain’t your thoughts after all. How do you ever know them are your thoughts and not just one lone voice still hanging ‘round your brain?

You guys do this? For real? You listen to yourself think?

How do you stay sane?

This is too weird.

I’m not sure I can do this.

Anybody know how to get them voices back?

You got any pills that make people hear voices?

It’s awful damned quiet in there.

You sure you ain’t got a pill to help me?

You don’t get me a pill, I’m gonna start screaming.

Yeah, it’s a threat. But it’s also a promise. And maybe it’ll help. It’ll be some god-damned noise, anyway. Give me a pill, you bastards. You always wanted to give me a pill before. Why not now?

You are sick bastards, you know that? What kind of people want me to…

Please, can I have my voices? Please?

I NEED SOME GOD-DAMNED NOISE.

716 words
© Copyright 2008 Hereford (hereford85615 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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