Well I be damned if the world wasn’t trying to tell me
something today! But here’s the catch. I didn’t know what voice to listen to.
There are too freaking many of them, and they all want to be right! You can’t
even begin to understand the battle going on between them over typing rights
right now.
Let’s sketch out the scene.
I wake up mortified by the voice of Lionel Shriver (author
of a too well-written book titled We Need To Talk About Kevin). If you’ve read
the book or seen the movie you’d know this is not a voice you’d want taking
residence anywhere near your brain cells. The transparency in which the
narrator tells her story is truly hurtful. By that I mean it might actually
cause physical pain!
As Lionel and her much too mentally deformed characters make
themselves feel at home inside my brain, I go through the TV channels. Fight
Club, Stranger Than Fiction, and Scrubs, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
I am Amani’s choking inner voice.
Oh if it weren’t for the divinity-dipped, soothing tone of
Morgan Freeman, I would have gone completely bananas! That might be the only
upside to having strangers narrate your thoughts to you.
Now let’s not forget my very own team of crazies! All thanks
to them for every moment of silence between what I think and what I say. That might
actually be life saving in some situations, but a retard-mode ignition in
others.
The whole point of this heartwarming gathering inside my
head is far beyond my comprehension. For when it came down to thought-speech
coordination we completely hit a brick wall. The bickering all day long must
have certainly taken its toll on them by the time I decided to engage in any
sort of social conversing, resulting in a major communication malfunction and a
low blow to my social image.
We are contemplating group therapy. Till then…
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