I lay in my bed, listening to the whirring of the fan and the sound of soft snoring that fills the room with noise.
But it's quiet compared to the mess in my head. They're all screaming at me.

Louder and louder they get until I can't hear anything above their paranoid and angry screams.
Not even my own crying can match them...

When they are gifted their voices, they take mine away.
I've learned to cry quietly.. beg for a release quietly.

Tears are already cascading down my face, my mouth silently screaming for it to stop. For this all to end. For a bit of comfort from the one next to me... but it's useless. No sounds but strangled words of "I'm sorry" and "Please stop" and "It hurts..." "Please stop I'm begging you...."

They only get louder as more tears fall down my cheeks.

She laughs horridly. I hate her laugh but it's hard to ignore as her voice pierces my ears like knives, pointing out every little thing wrong with my face, my hair, my body, my clothes, my posture, my voice.. everything.

He screams about how lazy I am, laying around all day. Whether I'm depressed or sick or whatever excuse I give, it doesn't matter because I'm nothing but a lazy child. Spoiled rotten. And I don't deserve the love I receive because no matter what I give back nothing is good enough. Useless child...

They quietly whisper about how hell will rise and the earth and the heavens will be doomed as the whole world burns. And I, in the center, the arsonist with the lighter. Watching as the world goes up in flames, reaching the skies and far beyond, a smile on my face as everything goes black.

There's more of them. So many more.. The loudest ones are those three, though. Always.
Unless you count it. She loves it.

It is.. something else. Less of a voice and more of a slithering snake. Winding itself around my neck, my torso, my chest, and every other part of my body. It squeezes and it hurts so much.. It hisses in my ear.
Don't even look at that food.
Don't even think about that food.
You don't deserve that food.
You did nothing to deserve that food.
Food is not what one gets for being lazy.
Food is not what one gets for being a horrible child.
Food is not what one gets when you don't do as told.
Food isn't for people who forget.
Food isn't for people who are stupid.
Food isn't for things that are ugly.
Food isn't for things like y o u.

. . . . . .

And now I lay in my bed. Stomach empty, head full of screams, and a chest filled with an empty hole.
I do not deserve any of what I get.
I do not deserve your friendship.
I do not deserve your love.
I do not deserve your time.
I do not deserve your attention.
I do not deserve anything you give to me.

Because I am not enough.

That is what the voices tell me.