Internal Dialogue

His mind whirled, jumbled thoughts and ideas getting in the way of eachother, allowing him no respite. The pressure of it all made him squeeze his eyes shut. Please, just leave me alone! There would be no response. Deep breaths, brief meditation, herbal tea, prescription medication… He had tried them all. Nothing worked.

If he could just make sense of the chaos in his mind, he might – just might – be able to communicate his theories and plans to others. Might be able to make them see that, in spite of his internal misery, he had an acutely analytical mind, the products of which might be utilised to usher in a new period of progress. He had to find a way to get this message across, for he could not simply put it into practice himself – it was too elaborate, too complex, it needed the cooperation of others if it was to be brought to fruition.

The noise. The noise in his head. Unbearable. Look, just fuck off! Nothing.

He had, of course, written his theses down, had emailed, posted, blogged, published and leafletted as much as was possible for a man in his condition. Mental agony precluded him from disseminating to the extent that he wished, and it seemed that there was nothing he could do to ameliorate such suffering. However, this inability to articulate his views in person, face-to-face, in discussion with others… It completely destroyed him, made his points essentially worthless.

Nobody values the opinions of a man who turns to jelly as soon as he is asked a question.

Solidarity, brothers & sisters…

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About Seba Roux

Gooner, Socialist, Historian, Slacker. That's pretty much all you need to know.
This entry was posted in Gibberish and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Internal Dialogue

  1. Pushkin Pete says:

    That is excellent. It encapsulates all that whirls in the dervish that is the mind. However….a person’s opinions are always worth waiting for 🙂

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