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In the Mind of Someone With Auditory Hallucinations

It was not funny.

My heart was pounding in rage like a hammer beating in a nail.

I was being probed by about 300 voices in my head a minute, attacking me, calling me out on my sad, sick life like these forces had an acute knowledge of my experiences and inner torment.

I had no line of defense, although I attempted in my head to fight back by coarsely swearing and barking back feeble insults. I called them out on what was happening and how it was unjust. A sinister woman’s voice told me that before I had become like this, I had been spied on night and day, that I had been awoken to something, and so now I was aware of these duplicates of personalities. They told me that when I had been “unaware” they had watched my pathetic zombie state as I drank day after day, and had witnessed the sordid personal affairs that I had undergone unbeknown to their sadistic laughing eyes. They found pleasure in my dreamlike state, using a simulation of my actions to abuse me, their imaginations and clicked on young minds using my sleeping body in numerous translations of sick torment, demonizing me to expel any guilt that they might have the human intellect and decency to feel.

I would feel dirty and clogged and so would drink, but there was always that feeling that I was a joke to these higher minded people. I would especially feel that way when I would take a walk to town and would blush as the energy and laughter drove me up the wall and into the ground, hit me like humiliating waves and filled my ego with a sick taint that made me feel useless. These times were sickening and unreal, at first for eight days I could not sleep a wink as the voices and experiences were too hectic and intense. They would tell me I was nothing as I tried to achieve some sort of status, and always reminded me of their superiority, for most of it I was seething with rage, wanted to lash out. I desperately needed affection but could not find it in my head.

It was easy to muse on death and life, there was a feeling in the air that I was hated, I couldn’t grasp the reason, I deathly wanted my own back and do to this day.

The voices demand superiority, as part of my world, as part of my train of thought, there is one speaking to me now as I am writing, several chides, several rebukes, I feel constantly judged, in a ludicrous inhumane way, which the auditory characters I live with excuse by shrouding themselves in their habit of creating different societies, as part of this relation to others, different people, different minds giving off conversation and evoking feelings of connectedness, in complete indifference to logic and fact.

I am completely alone, yet as part of my thinking I interact with a number of hallucinations, women mostly and men, who I am never quite close enough to to feel relaxed. There is always an action I haven’t navigated correctly to excuse the coldness of the darkly niche ensemble, yet alas I am not left out enough for the full impact of my individuality to be felt and benefitted from.

If you can relate to Cosmo, let him know in the comments below. 

Getty image via francescoch