There are words inside my head that are spoken by different voices. They want out, these words voices. They scream of independence, curiosity, acceptance. I have ignored them for as long as I can remember. I am thirty-two years old and in pain every day; physical pain that seems to have no stimulus besides stress. I believe that truth prevails, even if only in our own mind. Life and truth will no longer allow me to conceal my words. They are forcing my voices to express the truths of life. Inside my soul, and the trivial amount I know about her, is a tsunami of rampage. She wants to shine and not be afraid to be who she is.

She rests on my left shoulder so heavy that the knots follow the full length of my trapezium, fiber after fiber. She does not sit peacefully. She pulls my head to her mouth, while stabbing me under my shoulder blade with a knife so long it cuts through my head and sticks out of my left temple. She then returns to my body, hoping she has my attention. She waits impatiently. She knocks on my eardrums with constant popping between her temper tantrums that stomps on a nerve, sending waves of muscle spasms through my neck. I feel like I am choking, while hurricane forces of tremors roll across my jaw, until they become the great ocean of constant spasms across my soft and hard palette.

Then I remember to breathe. I have been holding my breath for so long that I forget to breathe. I come back to the moment that is occurring external to my mind and it is nearly impossible to focus on anyone or anything. I know if this life I created continues, I will die.

I don