The Mysterious Voice in Your Head

I don’t want to call it God, because I don’t know if that’s true. I’m also hesitant to think it’s me because it feels, somehow, removed.

In efforts to classify the voice I’ve just come to calling it “The Voice of Reason”.

I don’t know if everyone has this voice, but it’s the one that answers when you ask a question into the deep dark recesses of your mind.

Strangely enough, that voice was never there before my breakdown. Either that or I didn’t need it I can’t remember entirely. Suffice it to say that that voice has been a guidepost for me, a map or even a sage when I’ve needed it. It seems to always know the right course of action or the right advice to give me when I’m confused or lost.

I’ve asked it many times if it was God or if it was just me and that’s the one question where it’s never given me a straight answer, it just kind of says, “I don’t know”, or “I’m whatever you want me to be.”

Honestly it’s probably nothing more than my conscience.

I don’t know if everyone has the voice but it’s essentially the angel on your shoulder. It’s small, and quiet and mostly keeps to itself unless you ask it a question. But it is also quick to interject when you’re making a dumb move.

You can choose to ignore it but, in my experience, it’s always had the right answer. It’s always seemed to have known what to do when I didn’t and for that reason I’ve come to trust it inherently.

Sometimes it even speaks up when you didn’t ask it to, putting a word or a phrase in your head that immediately provides a sense of comfort and calm.

Again, I don’t want to say it’s God but in moments like those it’s pretty hard not to think it is.

As I’m writing this I realize that the reader may have no idea what I’m talking about whatsoever, and may be saying to themselves, “This is pretty clearly a rambling schizophrenic diatribe.” and that may well be true. Regardless, I take comfort in knowing that this voice is there, sitting quietly in my head with the right advice at the right time, seemingly never having missed.

It could be a function of my mental illness (hearing voices) but it’s not malevolent and it seems to only want the best for me, as I do of myself.

I don’t have to know if it’s God, or an angel, or my mental illness or just simply myself, but I know that I’m grateful to have it.

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