22 Sep 2018


Yesterday’s article was a bit ‘mind blowing’: Closer or distracted minds had to tighten their seatbelts so they would not be misled. But before continuing, I want to thank you for the immense support I have received and messages of encouragement: I do not feel alone with you and this is one of the reasons that allows me to survive nowadays. Yesterday I spoke of “A January that lasts until the summer” but it is not the cold that shows in this environment of penumbra and amazement, but it is the heat of a tropical storm. Today I want to share what these voices are that I hear inside my head so you can better understand my mental disorder.



Imagine that you came home after a day at the beach and you go to your room to rest. You have a fantastic tane (if you have my skin tone, chances are that with the excess of sun you have blue reflections, let’s say you become the newest version of the Avatar); your eyes explode the glitter reflected in the sea water and you assume a posture in accordance with your state of mind: you throw your slippers in any way and throw yourself in a long movement of laziness to the bed. So far so good; you still feel the face to be stroked by the breeze and sea, all smiling because that is what your fresh face gives you: lightness, languid yawns and a delight blessed by the airy heat of the sand of the beach; slopes head into lunch and suddenly you hear in your head:

“You son of a bitch are here in bed and you should have been killing your mother because you are the God of the Universe.”

You probably form a “V” with your eyebrows and say, “What a crazy idea!” Turn you on the cushion and the voice continues:

“You’re a manipulator! You’re not ashamed? If you breathe again it’s proof that you’re going to kill your mother! “

Probably the once-brushed smile on your iconic face fades away and you wonder if you are oku because you feel the heart now panting inside the bone armor and you start shaking wildly … What’s the point? You did not realize you had a wonderful day, right? But the voice advances:

“You know, it’s not the first time I’ve deceived someone to kill another person … You sold me your soul. This is a game and only I can win. You suck at nothing. If you get up, you’re going to kill your father: that fat fucking son of a bitch. He’s not worth anything! “

By this time, with the cold sweat pouring down your body as if you had just showered; the heart in the throat asking to be expelled by the mouth and you begin, in fact, to believe in the speech that flows through your mind. As you are an athlete you learned to make the strategy of the correction of thought (technique used to divert negative and intrusive thoughts); for your bad luck you tried again and again and the voice does not shut up. What a great shit … You think, “I’m not going to do what the voice is telling me.” At this moment you feel that you were hit by a truck; you’re exhausted but you can not fall asleep. Dices your eyes and try to think positive themes but whenever you try to do you see heads roll, knives to be stuck on your mother’s back … Am I crazy? You finally fall asleep and you get a sleep of when instead interrupted by heart palpitations that is preparing for the worst case scenario. Finally, the other day arrives: the voice is not silent; you go out to the street after you get rid of the morning appointments:

“You see that gentleman there (Yes – answer your inner voice that you assume like yours) you will rip off his head and that child there will crush his skull!”

At this moment, you have the symptomatology of the previous day. Are you going crazy? You just want to go back to the bedroom and sleep again, but you have appointments that do not allow you to do it. Every person who approaches you thinks that you will kill her or him, rape her or him and cause her  or him terrible suffering … How does a person who proclaims himself a humanist live like this? Now imagine hearing this voice every day, without interruption, from the moment you wake up until the moment when – finally! – you lie down. Day after day. Week after week. At this point you realize that you have lost all your expressiveness, that your movements are robotic and you can not remember the basic things that you used to know by heart as your mobile number; Your eyes have lost their liveliness and they are hollowed out (Hello Zombie! How’s it going?). Without sleeping you get hallucinations where you’re the bad guy ready to kill.

“You’re on a mission and you know what the point is: Kill!”

You probably feel like you’re losing control and ask for help. Between the various steps you are medicated and you experience the whole pharmacy of medicines and nothing works. What would you do?


(The most creative minds send me your answers to!)

  • Blog
  • Célio Dias
  • Days of Light and Fights
  • Personal