Thoughtsoutloud

Introduction:

When there are high levels of stress or excitement, my mind goes into an uncontrollable chaos. So intense, that conversations begin to play loudly in my head, taking a life of their own. Over the years, they have begun to be a part of my daily life, anticipating which voice I’d hear the loudest. Responding to them out loud, would certify me as crazy, so, I observe them. Taking note of which is dominate or submissive. Voice one is my normal one, the everyday Jackie voice. Voice 2 reminds me a lot like Louise from Bob’s Burgers. Sarcastic. A youthful, playful energy yet at times can be extremely annoying, Voice 3 is the spiritual “dark cloud” that appears when I am the lowest. With the deepest blue eyes, she’s cynical and sad. The following is a scenario in which all of these voice came together and actively played loudly my mind.

Scene: On the train

Situation: running late/possibly already late to work

Scenario: starring into the sky, notice a cloud weirdly looking like a fat woman’s labia and clit.

Opening:

Still sitting at the Frankford station. The train has yet to pull up and more eager patrons take the available seats. I’m in the back. Secluded to myself. The way I like to get ready for work. I continue to check the time, noting my misfortune that will make this trip more anxiety ridden as now my earphones do not work. I have lost the coffee sleeve for my coffee, now the warmth of the cup is a case of hot potato in my hands. The night before, I was in anguish, coming to the conclusion that my phone was lost to the world. Pictures and memories, vanished. The disappointment from an ex had further catapulted me down the slide of events that I would deem “misfortunate.” While sulking, I can hear the conversations that was taking place in my head, noting each emotion inside I had felt.

Voice one: I have taken this trip numerous times. Since we left out at 10:50, I'll be at work by 11:30.

Voice two: You have to be at work at 11.

V1: No, I don't. It's eleven-thirty.

V2: Maybe, I say, you need to be in there in 11.

V1: Shut up, no. Because I love being early, I am sure that my schedule said 11:30. Been like that since I started it.

V2: Whatever…

I look ahead as the stops came and went, turning corners. Reminding me of places I’ve been, men I’ve screwed, places in which it happened, conclusions drawn. I had carried 5 years of travel and identity with me. The wounded dog looking for aid and affection. A succubus of all things that made my clit swell. Either way… the conversation continues about being late.

V2: Why do you even care? You are getting unemployment. You can always quit.

Oh, and the whimpering, pessimism comes in and takes a seat at the round table.

V3: That’s true, what’s the point?

V2: Can always take time to find another job.

V1: You know how long it took for me to get this job.

Which is right, I do wanna leave, get back to Cali however with more desires, more goals of mine need more time for planning. In believing this, it doesn't aid to this conversation as relief; just more stress.

V2: You’re still in the hole, 380…380….380…still in the hole 380…

V1: I know this, don’t remind me. Doesn’t help dipping and dabbing in it.

Impulsive spending has continue to show the downside to a mental illness like mine. My wants become needs, needs become even eager needs. When accounts down to cents, I curse everyday enter the work force; arguing the need to escape but want to make stacks of wealth. While the mental “tug of war” doesn’t help and continues to play on, Voice 4 enters in velvet, next to nothing, oozing sexual energy that even had me take a shutters breathe.

Me and Voice 4 are the best friends, even better lovers, absolute worst enemy known to me. A much bigger energy than me, that I submit when she wants to be personified (like now). Sultry…a provocative song with a melody that's hypnotic (can’t even use damn near). Her eyes, slanted with a shade of brown that glows golden with traces of purple, she gracefully sat in the mental chaos of my mind. She embodies every person that I had came across who was straightforward, no bars, no filter people that I had admired, also in parts, envied.

V4: You know we turn the fuck up. Not for nothing, pop-pop came in with the clutch.

V1: Drugs are bad.

Earlier that day, I had used her sexual energy to get what she would call “a good time” a mix of herb and pharmaceuticals, she delighted in the anticipating hours off the clock. I had battled this addiction and each day, I would obtain small victories. Today, however, was a day that I was defeated and I personally didn’t fight it.

V2: Eh, either way, I don't care.

V3: I don't like being unhappy.

V4: See, y’all need me because if not, you would be much more depressed.

She's right. I would be. But it doesn’t help that when that feeling comes, the urgency to touch on areas that gives happiness; she has no problem exploring. Even if it’s a past happiness or addictions, she'll reintroduced it again and again. I am noticing that I am coming closer and closer into the city, noting the time that is still left until I had to clock in. My anxiety is on a see-saw as I debated back and forth if I will have time to even smoke a cigerette before I get on the work stage; faking smiles and even faker conversations.

V4: Those people don’t give a fuck about you so why are you trippin’ over being late?

V2: Money, Jackass, Money.

V1: My work ethic prohibits tardiness.

V3: Boarding school didn’t like that. You'll be on punishment if you were.

At times, I feel like I still am on the lowest level of discipline, one that shows blatant struggle or even rebellion. That the capsule that was boarding school affects me even after graduating.

V2:You need that cig, you'll go crazy if you don’t. Can't get through a damn shift, with uppity white people without one.

V1: Chill with that… Mom didn’t raise you to speak like that.

V2: Well, she's not here so why should it matter?

V3: I miss her.

God, do I miss her. I constantly question how she would be in this day and age. How she would have handle my like for both sexes, further explain that I am attracted to intellect. Not what they have been genetically assigned. At times, I believe that she is chuckling, most times; turning like a rotisserie chicken in the grave. That hasn’t sat well with me, however, memories began to fade and that fact makes it hurt even more. I have been in constant pain with every outcome of situations on which I had believed would end positively. Yet… I sit on the train, in anguish, tears, and downright anger. I need my mom at 28, and the fact she hasn’t been here for 8 years, completely sucks.

V4: Don't start that shit. Let mom lay where she is, undisturbed.

V3: It's hard.

V2: Life is.

V1: She's proud of you.

V4: Don’t bank on that, Hunny.

V1: Again, shut up.

I get off at 15th street, a half of a black away from my job and I let out a heavy sigh of relief. I had made it into the area, with 15 minutes to spare. A small cherub had entered and the other four began to laugh hysterically. Which caused me to smirk as I rushed through the traffic of people in the city.

V5: Hallelujah.

V4: Who brought the damn church in?

V1: God always got you.

V2: About time.

V3: I suppose faith is good to have.

Let me be honest, my faith in a higher power had been slim to absent. Constantly back and forth that I would swear God, himself, would be annoyed as fuck with me. The constant crying out, prayers answered, say thanks and then…nothing. Just “Thank you for the food” type prayers. I don’t know how to talk to God when I can't even picture what he or she is. I can’t have an one on one with the higher power when the same idol of “God” that I have had engrained in my head isn’t what I picture. I believe that he’s there. That he made the ultimate sacrifice, possibly sending a flawless man named Jesus. However, in knowing that, I don’t necessarily go back to say hey, often.

V2: Thought angels wings were a lot bigger.

V4: I’ve must’ve snorted a lot of lines for your wings to be so short.

V1: Again, with the coke.

V4 would always harp on my old self, one in which lived without rules and often fights to appear at my lowest and vulnerable moments. That person she embodies. V3 realizes that her wee voice would be no match for the other three and an angelic presence so she retreated in her cold shell. Awaiting her next time she'll be present. Maybe much louder and powerful. Until then, she waits. I stop and kill the time left as I approach my job. I see a co-worker and we talk about weed and its affects on his pregnant sex partner. Not wife or girlfriend. Baby momma. A modern day word for entrapment. As I got further in depth with the conversation, my manager comes and make pleasantries. When I came around my coworkers, I always had gotten a sense of peace. Everyone concludes from the “thought round table” and hibernate, waiting to come back out of hiding when the situation calls for it. However, this moment, all together, they appeared with the same frustration and disbelief that would follow as my manager reminded me of time and my schedule.

Bitch Manager: Hey Jackie.

Self: Hey, good morning.

BM: You know you were supposed to have been here 10 minutes ago, what are you doing talking?

As I look at the digital clock, all that was left to say was…

All: SHIT!