NocturnalScribe

The incessant whispering, murmuring, half heard insults, always coming from behind me, yet no one is there when I try to see who it is. The other voice, the one who narrates my life, pointing out my failures and shortcoming, seems to enjoy exclaiming how I am too slow, too stupid, too useless, to be able to figure things out and catch the whisperer. The final voice just continues to be itself, providing the background stream of insults, derogatory observations, yet today it seems to be really pushing how hopeless and useless I am. Day after day, week after week, they continue with little respite, sleep is no longer needed every day, just shor