The Multiplicity of Voices: Poetic Prose

So I'm standing in a room right, and this person comes up to me and says "You are a woman, act like it." So I cock my head a little to the side and look at them confused while they say some other stuff. They talk quick. I don't understand them. They walk away. I'm still standing there. Someone else comes running up and starts talking about how mad they are at so and so and I'm pretty sure they are talking about that first person, the one who told me to be a woman and what that should look like. "Who cares!" yells this second person. "Be whatever you want to be, in fact it is your duty as a woman to not be the type of woman they want you to be so that you can show them that you can be whoever you want to be." This person's is angry, whoa! I like the way they get so into it. I like their passion, but holy elephants I have no idea what they are talking about. I could be wrong but I'm pretty sure they just told me that I should be who they want me to be and not who this other person wants me to be because no one should tell me who to be. I'm not sure if that makes sense.

So I'm standing there with all this stuff in my mind trying to figure it out and ANOTHER person comes on up and yells at me for standing around. "Do something! Take action!" and poof they're gone. Do something? Right, OK, but what? WHAT?

So I'm standing their looking at my feet when someone comes up and says "But what do you believe?" "Believe?" I say, "Believe about what?" And they rant at me for hours and hours, telling me what to think and believe about everything under the sun, but they are soon joined by someone else who thinks some other things and then the two of them yell at each other and I'm still standing there, confused and looking at my feet.

Well I suddenly realize my feet won't move if my brain doesn't tell them to, but my brain is so confused I don't know what to do. So I do the only thing I still can do and I sit down. So I'm sitting on the ground and I start to cry because it's the only response I can muster. The tears are flowing when someone rushes up and tells me to stop complaining so I bight my lip and I bight my lip and I bight my lip and I bight my lip, but the tears finally come again and someone else comes and yells at me for not reaching out and getting help. "I'm here for you!" they say and then run away again. Now I have this vague notion that I'm supposed to talk about my problems, so the next time someone rushes over I open my mouth and I talk and I talk and they say "Stop talking and listen!" and someone else says "You think too much!" and another person says "Get up, get up!" And I am so tired of the voices and the yelling so I roll behind a tree and hide.

I close my eyes and plug my ears, but the screaming has somehow gotten inside and I can still hear it, because now I am yelling at myself in all of their voices and there is no escape from the multiplicity of voices, because there is no escape from myself.