Seeking that moment of silence within the mind muscle made of meat.
How in the hell was I supposed to know?
I hear mine all the time and know for a fact you're hearing yours right now at this very moment. As I write this, I'm hearing it. It seems to know what I'll write before I even write it. How can this be?
Sometimes I have to wait for it. It's like my master presses the pause button to go make popcorn. I sit, idle. The vehicle is running, but no one is inside. Nothing comes out of this mind and onto this screen made up of thousands of tiny, magic, flashing light beams from outer space, without hearing this strange voice first.
...but how can I ever be sure?
It's just chemicals and juices swirling around in meat.
Some parts can go rancid. We've all seen it happen. So fragile. Be careful. Add a molecule or two, or maybe take one away for a few seconds. Everything including the outlook on life changes.
What would life be like if every time we stubbed a toe or sliced a finger, we started trippin' balls? Hallucinations entering the eyes and ears and coming from every direction for hours, or until the bleeding stops. A cabinet maker overdoses after getting a sliver on the job. All he did was hurt his meat.
That's the third one this week!
Even without the help of a drug, your entire world can change the moment that voice goes away, or turns into someone else. Too many natural illnesses out there to list now though.
...the next, you're not. Done.
If it's self inflicted, we have an advantage. We saw it go in. We wanted to meet that odd walking mind traveler from mushroom mountain. If it's natural and sneaking in through the back door, we won't even notice how our little voice has a new accent and prefers to smoke with the left hand instead of the right. It just moves right in and steals your part of the couch without asking first. How rude.
I certainly learned my lesson.
I was sitting down for a coffee the other day when I noticed my voice telling me to do some nasty stuff.
At first I just thought it was my imagination running wild. I have an entire herd of buffalo up there in brainland all stampeding around and eating the grass. Tough to keep them inline and out of trouble.
“...should probably just kill that guy over there.”
I heard me say that, then I paused. I wasn't sure if I actually said it with my inside voice, or my outside voice. I looked around the coffee shop. Nobody was looking at me as if I were a crazy person as of yet. Then I heard it again.
I'm not a murderer. I'll defend myself, even if that means throwing the first punch, but murder? Since when? And for what?
Only a crazy person would just stand up and kill someone for no reason.
That's how I've thought for my entire life. So what the hell is going on? I sip my coffee. The guy looks at me. A brief lock of the eyes. At that moment, I realized I had been staring at the man throughout this entire thought process. I may have been focused on his chin though because of this massive, hairy brown spot that lived there. Of course, him seeing me glaring at that mark probably wouldn't make things any better between the two of us.
I thought it was over. Was thinking about finishing up and taking off anyway.
“...watch him. He's dangerous. He'll get you if you don't get him first.”
My voice won't shut up at this point. One demented thought after another....
“...kill him.”
“...he's not actually reading that newspaper.”
“...get rid of him. Don't just leave. Take care of him. Save these people.”
“...Swing swing swing! Chop chop chop!”
“...can I get a double McMurder and a Coke to go?”
“...will somebody please take my order!”
“...Mahna Mahna
Do doo be-do-do
Mahna Mahna
Do do-do do
Mahna Mahna
Do doo de-do-do de-do-do de-do-do de-d.”
“...Chopper. Sick balls!”
“...Uh-oh! Here he comes! Made you look! Ha!”
“...Gimme a K!
K!
...Gimme an I!
I!
...Gimme an L!
L!
...Gimme another L!”
This is the part where I finally snap.
Coming up!
Clearly, I was losing my mind and the control was soon to follow. I got up from my chair with the force of three G's, knocked the table with my knee which in turn sent the rest of my coffee and a few bagel chunks flying through the air, all while firing out with the full extent of my final breath...
It was too late. Three shots already rang out. Two hit me, I was fading fast and all I could think about was how I was the guy who got shot and yelled, “L,” instead of something normal like, “No” in slow motion.
I'm a statistic now, I suppose. Number one of eleven that day. Twelve if you include the coward. Add me to the pile and sweep it under the rug like the rest.
I rode the elevator all the way to the top floor, if you know what I mean. What were my options? Listen to the voices? Make the news as the most recent nutcase who up and kills someone for no reason other than, "The voices told me to..."?
Yeah. I'm sure they'd throw me a parade for that one.
The thing is, I wasn't going crazy on my final day. That wasn't a demon taking residence inside my brain. It was my hunter. My intuition. My human nature. That's why the buffalo got spooked. I was trying to tell me something, but forgot how to read the signs.
In the days of fast food at the local wifi hotspot, who has time to listen to their obsolete, stone wielding, old fashioned self?
Not me, not the other eleven. The manager was nowhere in sight. Employees were focused on their tasks. Everyone inside their own little bubbles. Car after car whipping by. Nobody stopped that day.
The road is paved now. You can walk it barefoot. There's no need to pay attention to anything. Life will do it for you. Fully automatic. Just keep waiting for it to happen.
This place never sleeps. I think I'll head out there, do some mingling. There are so many interesting people here. I'll introduce you all someday, but until then...
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