My Little Voice...

How could one argue that they do not have that little voice in their head? You know the voice you can always talk to but who is never there. The little voice that tells you the stories of how you wish your life would, should, and could be. I would like to make it clear that this is not a story about me but more so a story of the little voice. When you think about it, the voice is not so little. In many cases it’s the biggest, loudest, most obnoxious part of you. It is also the deepest, most loving, ambivalent part of you. I would love to know what everyone’s little voice is like, but instead I must speculate while my little voice judges yours.

My little voice often thinks of the saddest things in the world, the un-loved and unwanted things or people. My voice wonders why not everyone can spare change for the homeless man on the street. My voice wonders why there are people out there who could leave a child on a doorstep. My voice often wonders as well as asks, why? And then it answers it’s own question. Sometime I think my little voice could even be a schizophrenic. Other times it thinks it is the only sane voice on the planet.

What will your great contribution to this life be? What magnanimous gesture will you provide? This is the most common question. Yet there is never an answer. It hurts to think that I will never be able to satisfy my voices most requested quandary.
Have you ever loved someone so much that you know you would die if they left you?
I have never had the pleasure of loving anyone. I don’t think I am unable, but more so uncertain of ever receiving the chance. The “Professionals” would argue that I am incapable of loving myself, which is why I am not equipped to love others. This all sounds very textbook and it is. But how do I challenge what seems like a lonesome fate?

Sad Madness and wholehearted souls is absolutely fucking tragic. When someone you love leaves you. The void is so large it could never be filled. No matter how many souls you try to reconnect. Emptiness will remain. It will be the everlasting feeling.
Charity is more then a gift for the less fortunate. It is not a gift I ever asked for. Yet, I have sometimes received the kindness of others. I think the love in my hart was put there for the benefit of strangers. The individuals who do not know how to give are the souls in this life, which are truly empty. At least this is what my little voice thinks… RM