Dear Voices in my head,
I should probably start with hello. But I am not. You are talking to me right now, questioning me. Like you always do.
You made your first entry into my life when I was 7 years old. I was asked to sing in front of my friends. You told me I wasn’t good enough. You told me I am horrible. And, although I might offend you, I didn’t like you. I hated you.