Talking, talking all around me in hushed muffled tones ‘what are they saying?’ I make out the odd word or two as my mind starts to run riot with obvious paranoia. This is not good.. Their saying my name, why? I’m trying to rationalise this with myself. Why would anyone be talking about me and mine at 3am in the morning. What makes me so special..
The talking is in my head I do know this, so why am I listening for it? and how come I can still here it.
My mind is playing tricks on me.
I can hear the humming of the fridge and hubby snoring in the bedroom, yet to my over sensitive ears the sounds are forming words, fridges don’t talk and snoring is not a language I speak.
Stop! I don’t like this it’s scaring me. Reassuring myself I sit here at the table alone.. except for the voices of course! If I wasn’t so deprived of sleep I would probably talk back, could be interesting instead I’m writing this down as a distraction from the madness – or is it? I’m writing about hearing voices that I’m well aware are in my head. So.. now I’ve burdened myself with being unable to decide what is more insane, listening for the voices that aren’t real or writing about them.
At last the birds begin to sing signalling morning is near, they don’t have an opinion do they.. Aaargh!! If I listen hard enough they will! Upsetting myself now with the inability to differentiate between what’s real and what’s not, I stand to leave, Enough!! Sorry voices but you’ll have to chat between yourselves for a while whilst I go to close my eyes and pretend that I can’t hear you. Don’t worry I’ll be back soon. I always am aren’t I?..