I know I shouldn't blatantly be sleeping in class, let alone giving my teacher attitude but it's not for lack of trying. I try very hard actually, it's just nothing works. If I know something already or if I'm not interested, I can't fein like I am. I can only pretend if I care, which doesn't usually help because if I care then I normally don't have to pretend. It's just a hard switch to find in the darkness of my mind. I show you these parts of my life not to further display how cranky I can be — please, don't hate me yet! — But this was to show you just how lost I was that day. How someone can feel so solid & rooted to who they are & what they are, but still be wrong. Still be on the cusp of a revolution — & the first shot was about to be fired in mine.

I can end it.

Bodiless & effervescent, this voice came flooding through my ears like an ocean wave crashes on the shores; effortless & calming & powerful. It managed to be both soothing & uproarious, causing me to jolt suddenly at my desk & slam my knee into the corner.

"Is there a problem, Penelope Jane?"

"Just Jane! & no, I’m okay, I just… thought I heard something"

"So as I was saying, what can we discern now that we know X is equal to…"

This is the kind of thing my Mom was worried about before. All the voices in my head are mine, I know that. I’m not crazy. I’ve been this way my whole life. Hashing out conversations in my head before they happen. Realizing that I’m preparing for a future that is totally unpredictable & sometimes, yes, I have arguments with the voices, my own voices. But it doesn’t normally sound like that did. It doesn’t normally sound like anything... you know what I mean, like when you think things, even in different perspectives, it’s not sound, it’s thought. This wasn’t thought. This was heard. It just seems like only I heard it.

I can end it.

Maybe Mom was right all along, I should’ve just taken my stupid pills. Maybe all of this could’ve been avoided. Somehow, I still doubt it.