Ego, Part 2.

Continued from Part 1…

It was after breakfast the next morning that something significant shifted.  I had just washed my plate and silverware, and I was walking back towards my room.  The voice in my head was commenting on everything, as usual- “Oh, she’s sweet.  Look at her smile.  Oh my god, it’s already hot and it’s only seven in the morning.  Okay, I have to get my mat, my timer, and put on some sunscreen.”  Suddenly the voice revealed itself to me in a way it never had before.  I’m not sure who was responsible for this shift- the voice itself, or a deeper, more real part of me.  Suddenly, in exactly the same tone, it said, “Yeah, this is me talking, your ego.  I say everything around here.  Sometimes I’m nice, sometimes I’m fucking evil.  I just talk, and talk, and talk.  And the more you listen, the better off I am.  The more you think you’re me, the stronger I get.  So just keep on listening, Sarah, just keep on thinking you’re me.”

I kept walking, but I started to pay a different sort of attention.  I wasn’t as distracted as before.  The voice had my attention.  I was interested.  It continued on.  (At this point in the story, there will be an excessive amount of profanity- I’ll cut out 99.9% of what was really there, but just to give you a taste, I have to share some of it.  If you’re bothered by nasty language, stop reading, or skip ahead.  It’s just an insane ego talking, anyway.  It’s not real.)

It went on, this voice that sounded so much like my own, and yet… wasn‘t.  Quickly though, it changed, and took on a menacing tone, very threatening.  “Yeah, you’re always mistaking yourself for me, thinking that you’re a crazy little bitch for all the thoughts in your head, but really?  It’s just me!  Ha ha!!!! (hysterical laughter).  It’s just fucking ME, Sarah!  It’s not you.  You’re deeper than that (this in a very mocking tone).  You’re way fucking beyond me.  I’m just your stupid little ego, not real at all, but so fucking convincing that I’ve had you tied around my finger your whole fucking life!!!  Ah ha ha!!img_0898!!!   Ah ha ha ha ha!   Ah ha ha ha ha!”

I was walking up the steps to my room now, listening closely.  This was different.  I wasn’t hearing MY voice anymore, noting every thought.  I was listening to someone else.  He (yes, it was a male voice) had stepped out into the spotlight, and was demanding all of my attention.  I put my key in the lock, turned it, and opened the door.  “Yeah, you little fucking BITCH!” he screamed.  “You’re a stupid fucking bitch, and I can’t believe you’re in this stupid fucking place again.  Why the FUCK did you come back here?  You stupid, stupid bitch.  You came back here to get rid of ME, didn’t you?  DIDN’T you?!”

I dropped my bag, and walked into the bathroom.  I picked up my toothbrush and squirted on some toothpaste. He continued on, in that high-pitched, angry voice.  “Well you know what, Sarah?  If you wanted to find me, all you had to do was ask.  I’ve been here ALL.  FUCKING.  ALONG.  Do you understand me?  I’M in charge here!  I’M fucking in charge!  I’ve been in charge the whole fucking time, running your life, choosing your fucking clothes, having your fucking relationships!  What would you do without me?  And now you wanna come in here, all fucking saintly like, and meditate for ten more fucking days!  Well good fucking luck, Sarah, ‘cause you’re not gonna get rid of me.  I’m not that fucking easy to dislodge.  I’ve been here your whole fucking life, so just ‘cause you’re in this FUCKING monastery again, it doesn’t mean that you’re gonna lose me!  I’m too fucking good for that, Sarah, do you understand?  I can talk all day long, and all fucking night.  I can talk for FUCKING ever!!!

I spit out the toothpaste and rinsed my mouth.  I walked out into the bedroom and picked up my mat.  The voice was shrieking at me now.  “Fuck you, Sarah, FUCK YOU!  Fuck you, you stupid, holy BITCH!  Who do you think you are, anyway?  ME?!  You’re not fucking me, I can tell you that!  But I’m so fucking good that you’d never know that, anyway, would you?!  Or maybe you would!  (He said this in a twisted, insane tone.)  Maybe you fucking would!  You just fucking LOVE that I’m talking right now, DON’T you?!  You love it, because it means you’re not ME!  Well fuck you Sarah, because I can talk FOREVER!  Have you ever heard of a filibuster, Sarah?  Well I can fucking filibuster until the cows come home.  I can filibuster longer than any of those fucks in Congress ever did!  I can talk until you go fucking CRAZY and shoot yourself in the FUCKING head!  Do you know how many people have shot themselves in the fucking head because of a voice like me?  A MILLION!!  And I can make you do it, too!”

I laid out my mat and began the slow, mindful prostration.  He was screaming now.  “Fuck you, Sarah, FUCK YOU!  Fuck you, you stupid bitch, FUCK you!   I will KILL you, Sarah, do you understand me?  I will fucking KILL you!  You will DIE!  You stupid, stupid bitch.  Are you listening to anything I’m fucking saying?  Of course you are, you stupid bitch!  You’re listening to everything, because you’re a stupid bitch and you can’t help it.  You LOVE me, Sarah!  You know me.  You ARE me!  What the FUCK are you gonna do without me, anyway?  Have you fucking thought about that, Sarah?  Have you even BEGUN to think about what the FUCK your life is gonna look like without me?  Because I’m pretty sure it will fucking FALL APART.  I’m pretty sure your life will fucking fall to fucking pieces when I’m not there to fucking hold it up, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!”

This man, this voice, was so angry.  He was terrified, and he was insane.  He was incredibly intelligent- he went on to make relevant jokes that were funny, he quoted lines from books that were absolutely pertinent to the situation, he conjured up faces of people I knew in perfect detail- but he was insane.  The more he talked, the more he revealed his insanity to me.  He was terrified, he was angry, he was desperately insecure, and he was afraid of dying.  And yet, all he wanted to do was die.  He would beg me to kill him, to put him out of misery, and then moments later he would roar at me what a horrible, murdering bitch I was.  His language was foul and his tone alternated between raging anger, cunning malice, outright threat, and desperate begging.  This was the voice of insanity.


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