Something Familiar

It’s often the familiar things that make us feel comfortable – the easy chair that’s finally moulded itself to our body, the cup with the chip just where our lip meets the china, the view over the fields that hasn’t changed since we were old enough to appreciate it.

There is nothing more familiar to me than my own body. It’s served me well these 52 years that I’ve been using it and I’m happy with its performance even now. Like a well-worn pair of jeans, it fits me just so and I’m loath to let it go; but let it go I must.

You see, it’s come to my attention that the voices in my head have gotten much louder just a lately. They’ve reached the point where I have to start listening to them. And, more importantly, they have started to make sense. This is what they say:

  • You ain’t been treating me right, Robert. I have the right to be heard. There is no-one in this world who is closer to me than you and I care for you so much. It’s time you listened to me
  • Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to take out the trash more often and I want you to believe that I am the most insular person in the world.

Now, I can hear you asking yourself ‘what on earth is this all about?’ I fully sympathise with you. Here’s the thing – I have no more idea than you do. That thing about voices sounds like pure madness right there. And the stuff about listening to the voices – that’s madness cubed. And on top of that – the only thing the voices really say is that they are insular? Well, even I don’t understand that and I’m me!

But then again, am I me? If the voices are telling ‘me’ that I haven’t been listening to them, then which me is me – the voices that talk to me or the me that is (now) listening to the voices?

Yeah, I know – puzzling isn’t it! I’ll let you know if they say anything else. But for now – I’m going to take out the trash.