Teri-Lyn Smethurst
The Voice in My Head
The voice in my head tells me it’s time to go
I believe it is right. It’s time to let me go
I’m tired of the fight. I no longer feel the cause
Only the thought of you gives me pause
I stay in bed all day; try and sleep away the pain
In the darkness my pillow tears stain
It would be so easy to swallow all the pills
Pull the rope around my neck until my body stills
I know how much I hurt you. I can see it in your face
I’m a monster in disguise among the human race
Self medicating helps keep my rage at bay
Helps make me think I’m okay
Feeling smoulder under thin layers
Then taking the stage like theatre players
Happy then sad. Changing their minds on the fly
I can’t take this anymore. I wish I could die
Fix you
Photo by Joshua Brown on Unsplash
Another late night, waiting for him to get back. She paces the floor, from window to window hoping to see his headlights.
Struggling, going back and forth in her head whether she should slip her coat over her pyjamas and go out driving around looking f
or him as she has done many times before.
Deep down though she hates to admit it, she knows where he’s going when she hears him close the door in the
middle of the night. With engine screaming he speeds off out the drive and down the road. He drives recklessly and
fast and has told her many times he doesn’t care if he crashes and dies. He claims that he has nothing to live for.
She knows he has gone down the road to smoke drugs or to that house on the corner, where he can get high anytime
with these so-called friends. she smells it on his clothes when she does laundry. She tried to talk to him about it but he
brushed her concern away. She walks the cold floor with only the moonlight praying that he isn’t killed in a crash or
pulled over by the police and arrested for driving high. Recently she has suffered anxiety attacks when ever she see
emergency vehicles go by her house, convinced something has happened to him, that he finally lost control of his car
and is dead or that in a rage he has done something stupid.
Down the hall in their bedroom her husband lays awake. He is at a loss for what to do and how to fix this mess. He is sad, but
mostly angry that his son has chosen this path after all they have given him and would do for him.
She wonders if maybe they should put the house up for sale and move far away from these so-called friends of his but she knows
that he will probably find drugs wherever he goes. The thought of kicking him out has briefly crossed her mind but she knows that
she couldn’t ever do that, and it would only confirm in his mind that he is garbage and send him straight to his so-called friends
lost forever.
On the wall hangs pictures of a different happier time. Wiping her useless tears away she studies the photos. She remembers that
bicycle he sits on, his helmet crooked on his head and all the padding she made him wear to keep him safe. She smiles
remembering how proud he was when he could ride with no training wheels, a huge gaped tooth smile on his face. He cried when
he had to come in for dinner. Next to this is a picture of him more recently he looks so grown up, he stands with his buddies
dressed in a plaid shirt she bought him and his dad’s cowboy boots ready for prom. She stands there in the moon lit hall searching
his face in the photo closely comparing in her head that young man in the picture and the boy she has now. He still looks like her
son but he’s somebody else. Now he has such sad eyes and carries a invisible weight that seems to make him unable to stand up
tall anymore. He has so much rage and anger but she doesn’t no why. She tries to remember the last time she heard him laughing
and can’t, this breaks her heart. She would do anything to make him happy.
She cries when no one is around, wishing she could fix him to make him happy again, make him see how much he has to offer and
how special he is. She blames herself she must have done something wrong.
As she stands at the window in the middle of the night in her nightgown with her reflection looking back, she hopes she hasn’t lost
him. In her head she searches for signs of the old him, replaying conversations with him and knows that he is still in there
somewhere. She knows that she will never give up on him and she will always love him even when he tries to push her away by
saying hurtful things. They have tried talking to him, they yelled but now she realizes what she needs to do is listen, even when it’s
hard to hear what he has to say and stop telling him what do and how to be because this only reinforces his belief that he’s no
good.
Quietly his car rolls down the lane. Letting out her breath she lets the curtain fall back to place and quietly goes to bed.
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