You gave me some of these voices. I often claim there are 157 of the little guys chattering away up here, but the true number is yet unknown. I tried to count the once. That didn't go over so well. But, this is of no matter. The fact of the matter is I have several voices, and some of these were born and nourished because of you.
They, of all the voices, are some of whom have guided me the most. They have protected me and kept me from danger. They have held me back when I wanted dream stupidly. They have warned me before I got too close just what it was I was getting close to. Granted, I haven't always heeded the warnings, but for the most part, I have. And when I haven't, I have quickly learned I should have.
And this is how it was just recently. The voices chimed in and rang their warning bells louder than they ever had before. Yet at the same time other voices, generally quiet and often forgotten, allowed themselves to be heard. Forgiveness. An odd concept. Forgiveness is for the weak and stupid. Or so most of my voices believe. And the quiet ones don't usually argue. They stay in their corner alone and silent.
Due to the odd nature of these quiet ones piping up, I had to listen. I ignored the warnings and screams of danger, and listened and forgave and allowed myself to feel and hurt and believe. And now, I hope not-as-nice voices permanently silence those which are generally quiet. And now, I admit, you win. The voices warned me, this was retribution. This was revenge. I didn't believe, until now. You wanted me to hurt? You succeeded. You wanted to kill off any good memory, any good part of me? This, too, you have succeeded at. And now, with a few less voices chattering, it grows colder and quieter.
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