Voices are Dying

Voices on the wind. Voices in white noise. Voices dubbing music. They are the voices that only you can hear distracting and detracting from you, a voice hearer. Personally, I find voices more a thing when I’m at the manic side of the spectrum. Too bad the voices got to me and I fled.

It was not so bad that I could not care for myself, but I bet if left unchecked for just a short time, like a month, there would be a disaster. Since I seen it coming, I decided to bail, leave with just a small predesigned debt.

I gyped Avenue Living two months before my lease was up and abandoned my apartment. I bailed on my internet/cable bill and voided my contract. I’ve been a fugitive from federal student loans for two months now.

Sitting at Berczy Park on Scott St and Front St E, I contemplate why I’m in Toronto, a transient, headed to England. I fled Winnipeg one night at midnight tired of the ghosts that seemed to haunt me. They would prevent dreams, sleep, enjoyment off eating, pretty much all things again.

The voices I hear invested a negative outlook into my life that eventually overpowered my better judgement. I again became a wild man and proceeded to rant and rave. After briefly regaining composure, I ran off to TO and remembered what psychiatrists and psychologists call environmental factors.

I started to get better almost immediately and noticed that voices are not as powerful, can’t hold a whole hell of a lot over me, and have pretty much backed off. I’m a little tired of homelessness, but the streets aren’t so bad and I’m not returning to Winnipeg.

I’m going to continue my quest and see if I can get a job on an ocean freighter and end up in London. Till then I’m looking for a home… Any tips?

Published by Robert LT Jonasson

I have one novel being edited, 5 more flushed out, 56 short stories, and 530 poems. Please take the time to explore jonassonenigmaticnirvana.com and get to know me through my writing.

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