Angelina

People must think I'm crazy, hearing voices in my head.
But really...it's not that bad. There are only two. I think. There is the one that is the voice of my life, that is me, constantly thinking. The other voice, evil cousin of thinking voice, is what most people call a "negative nancy" or "debbie downer." I think she's more of Angelina, but she's negative all the same.
She says to me when I'm all alone, "Everyone likes her better." And never missing a beat, "even him," she courteously adds. I want her to shut up, but she's part of me, she's my friend. My very negative friend.
I kind of hate her. But it's really hard to banish her because she starts to cry. And I hate it when people cry, so I say, ok, (as she begs for forgiveness, repents, and makes plans for a happier perspective) if you really are going to clean up your act, I will let you stay.
So she stays. But next thing you know, when my mind is at it's most quiet, she speaks. It starts out slow sometimes, quiet and unpeturbing. It gets incrementally louder, almost unnoticably so at first.
"Nobody really likes you," she says finally. "They only pretend they do."
"You really aren't that pretty," she cackles. "Look at that fat."
I want to scream at her. But, my other voice is cowering in the corner, psychologically ruined.
I try to pick her up, but she won't budge. Resigned, I let Angelina get louder.
Finally she's done, with a self-satisfied grin on her face. I want to slap her.
So today I do.
Straight across the face.
It feels good.
Go away, I tell her. Go away and never come back.
I know she'll be back, with fresh insults, new spins on old ones, and lots of resentment for that slap.
But for a minute, I have peace. I pick up my other voice, hold her in my lap, and stroke her hair. I tell her she's beautiful and rock her back and forth. Slowly the tears stop.
I tell her I will keep her safe. I want to keep her safe. But for now I'll let her sleep.