Crystal City

You’re a bit of a freelancer aren’t you said the voice in my head bit of a freelancer bit of a freelancer bit of a freelancer bit of a freelancer. What the voice was saying to me didn’t actually make a lot of sense but it wasn’t what was said but how it was said. There was a nasty sneering tone to the voice, a belittling tone that was all about putting me down. That was the real message, never mind what was being said. You’re a bit of a lone-operator aren’t you said the voice again breaking through into my consciousness. Bit of a lone-operator bit of a lone-operator bit of a lone-operator bit of a lone-operator. That knowing tone. Putting me down. Putting me down with the words. Undermining me. Every word a stab. Every word the prick of a poisoned needle. I know some people would say, ah but that voice is only your own mind isn’t it? There’s not really anyone else there, is there? Your own mind is creating the voice. You’re putting yourself down really… Some people say this but it really annoys the fuck out of me when they do. It obviously helps them to say that. It comforts them, it makes them feel better in some way – as if it’s all about them! The fucking moronic tossers. That’s obviously all they care about, making themselves feel better by straightaway saying whatever dumb shit comes into their heads. Nice one you fucking retarded knobhead, I feel like saying. Real smart comment that. Really helps me a lot. You total fucking wanker. Why don’t you blow it out of your asshole you dumb shit-sucking twat. But I never say it. I never say anything. I never get as far as actually verbalizing. I repress it. I say nothing. My response never comes – it stays stuck in me, along with all the rest of the repressed shit that I am a reservoir for. It sticks in me and stagnates. It joins in with the general stagnation of everything else. It becomes my inner life.











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