I hate the voice. The voice that tells me things. The voice that tells me that I am useless, ungainly, unlovable. The voice that tells me I can’t do anything. The voice that tells me I’m letting people down. The voice that asks what the point is. The voice that keeps harping on, a ceaseless drone underpinning everything.
Why can’t I listen to the good, bright voices? Why are they so much harder to hear? The voices that tell me I’m loved and valuable, that this patch will pass, that the only one I have to please is God? The voices that tell me of all the wonderful things I have, the people I have, the joys that can be found every day?
I need to learn to listen.