This is what the voice sounded like before I understood it. Before I realized it wasn't trying to destroy me—it was trying to save me. This came through me over the course of a week, line by line, until it was complete.
If I told you I was the Devil, would you believe me?
I walk beside you every day. And every day, it's the same.
Will today be the day I finally decide to change?
If not, then you better hope this time it's the right vein.
I can even turn the lights on if it's too much for you to see.
Even if they were sorry, it wouldn't change a thing.
It's strange that we turn to pain as a means to our escape.
We can either give up or outgrow it, but either way, it hurts the same.
We lock eyes in the mirror, then stare off into space from our reflection.
I see your face, but you have never seen mine.
In fact, the truth is only pretty because you tell me what to see.
Is it all really as grim as you make it out to be?
Or are you just dying at a chance for us to finally meet?
I'm not just some voice in your head—a constant whispering.
Hate to be the one to tell you, but you're a real part of me.
There isn't much I have to say for you to believe
how I'm the only one you have, and I'm the only one you'll ever need.
I could be your past or your present.
It's all the same to me.
Better yet, let's make it interesting—let's say eternity.
Just imagine a life without me.
It's giving fucking sickening.
I snapped my fingers and I woke up.
It was just a lucid dream.
Shook it off and looked in the mirror.
He reaches out from it and almost grabs me.
I pull back and yell NO!
And then he spoke to me.
He said that his name was Either.
He's what makes my soul burn slow.
Tried to say he's not the Devil, like I didn't already know.
I guess that day was different.
The scars on my arms have vanished without a trace.
I can never take it back—the one thing that remains.
It's both the end and the beginning of all of my pain, and—
If there is life after death, I swear that in the next one
I will do whatever it takes for me to change.
Tears roll down my face and I drop to my knees.
Started thinking to myself how He could let things happen to me.
I thought I knew what it was like to really be alone.
Now that I sit here in the empty dark.
There is no one else here, not even a single soul.
Out of nowhere, I feel a hand grab mine.
"No, my child. This is not yet your time.
What I have given you is a gift.
It's him who wants to take your life.
You've never seen me either, but you would choose him over me?"
Filled with shame, looking down, there's a crackle in my voice as I say
that I'm sorry.
He lifts my head by the chin and wipes my tears away.
He smiles and says, "I love you. Don't forget what you promised me."
The Sentry and the Mirror
For years, I thought this voice was the enemy. The devil on my shoulder keeping me small, scared, dissociated. Watching my life through glass while autopilot handled everything.
It took almost three decades to understand: the voice wasn't the devil. It was a sentry. A guard stationed at my consciousness, doing the only job it knew—keep me invisible so I wouldn't get hurt.
If you want to understand the full journey from enemy to ally, from dissociation to integration, read The Glass Prison on the main site. That's where the architecture lives. This is just the raw transmission.