That's me, there, inside your head poking and prodding in every crevice of your meaty little brain. Yes, that's me wandering around in your cerebellum, trying to figure out just what you're thinking, trying to understand all that you are, have been, ever will be. And that is also me jamming my foot into the back of your eyeball, but I'm not trying to be cruel, I'm just trying to get you to see a little more clearly, to see more than the big picture, is it working? There I am standing on top of your pulsing, fleshy brain, screaming, crying, sobbing uncontrollably because I still haven't the slightest clue why or how you think any of the things that you do. I don't understand why you lie to me, I don't know why you can't see anything more than flesh, blood and bones when you look at me. You aren't "just" hearing things, you really do have a voice in your head, and I wish to God you would listen to me when I speak to you, trying desparately to make you see. When you get a headache, it's because I'm pounding on your skull, and when you cry, it's because I'm messin' with your tear ducts, as you've messed with mine. You hurt me, you pushed me away and then pulled me back, only to repeat your actions over and over. I AM NOT SHAMPOO. Hurt. Push Away. Repeat. You think you've washed my existance from your life but no, that's me, inside your head, punching your neural patterns, slapping your eyeball, dancing wildly on your brain. I'll be moving onto your heart soon. Brace yourself, though, I'm sure you must have some idea what it will be like, after all, you've done it more than once. Tell me how it feels to be the receiving party, when I use your heart as a punching bag, as a place to relieve my agony and cleanse my soul.

On second thought, I'm departing through your ear, right now.. I just realized something. I've got a lot of healing to do, and not a lot of time to worry about you anymore. Besides, there are many nice ways to fill the void, and there is probably just something in the wind today.

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