Impulse

Sugar, spice and everything nice. Oh, and a few buckets of evil.

We all have those voices. That doesn’t make you crazy… Does it?

Less people like to admit it than most.

The other day I was in the car with mum. She asked me “Do you ever want to kill yourself?” which I replied with “Do you really want to know that answer?”. She did. So I said yes.

I explained to her that it’s not something I ponder about, It’s not something I’m planning. I don’t know if this is a suicidal tendency or not. I don’t want to die. I want to excel in life.

For several years (maybe longer than I’ve noticed?) I’ve had this voice. Impulse. It’s menacing and whispers, never yells.

“Jump in front of that truck, do it”
“Throw this through that window, go on”
“Drink more”
“scrape your key all the way along that car”

It’s here.. then gone. In a flash. Like lightning without the thunder.

Sometimes I wonder if I will act on these sinister impulses.

When they’re gone, I forget about it. I put it out of my mind. It’s like it speeds back into the inner depths of my psyche.

If I were to try and think back… think back to the birth of Impulse. I would place it at the age of 12. That’s when I started self harming. I even attempted (feebly) to hang myself. I think I was curious about how it feels. It was the Impulse that I acted on. I didn’t like the choking feeling and I guess I didn’t actually want to die. Or else I wouldn’t be typing this out.

This is probably something I should delve into with my counsellor. I always forget about it because there are bigger, more superficial things going on in my life.

I don’t like digging into my mind. When I dig far enough it feels like I’m clawing at the ground. Trying to scrape through a layer made of broken glass, my nails starting to break off. My finger tips raw with blood and bone.

It’s a feeling I prefer to avoid.

Impulse.
Sometimes the whispers speak louder than yelling.

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