He sat across from me on a cerulean sofa. His warm, mahogany deep-set gaze fixed on me.

Normally I’d stare him down; yeah, I do that a lot. But somehow, I find I couldn’t hold his gaze.

Maybe it’s the well-sculpted shape of his face, the small smile flirting on his magnificent lips, or the way he sat- crossed-legged and aloof.

Who knows, man I don’t know much these days, there are too many voices in my head keeping me from thinking rationally.

All I know is if he were born in the medieval era, he’d be a Nordic god.

“Talk to me,” He said in a voice that’s a cross between being a base and a soprano.

Talk to me? I thought, what do I tell you?

Heck, I don’t even know what to tell him.

That’s because you’re not meant to be here, One of the voices in my head said. She’s always scolding me, this one. Hence, I like to call her Doom.

She just needs to be pitied, is all, said the chilling voice of another. This one is all dark and brooding, with her face forever cloaked in the shadows. I call her Gloom. Hers is the loudest voice of them all; always reprimanding, condemning, upbraiding, and downright possessive.

Perhaps she likes his face, he’s cute after all, said another. For all you know, he’s married with kids. I mean a guy like this can’t be unmarried. So, how about, you show him your punani and make him forget why you came here in the first place.

That’s the venomous voice in me, my poison. Hers is the caustic of all my thoughts, she hates seeing people happy, seeing them succeed. I like to call her, Cyanide. To this one, her idea of a human deserving of euthanasia is to look happy, excel at what you do, lead a successful life, and look like you’ve got everything going good for you; especially on social media.

Hey, there handsome, chirped a happy voice.

Oh, Brianna, I thought in smiles, Bri is the best. She’s my alter-ego, my doppelganger, the face I see constantly in the mirror.

I wake up to her, gaze squarely at her in the mirror, and chant a gazillion affirmations stuck on the walls with her.

She’s my all-time favorite because she constantly tells me I’m a strong, black, beautiful woman.

That’s because you are darling, Bri said in a wink, and this hunk of a man sitting across from you thinks so too.

Oh, shut up, Brianna, said a dark, ominous voice. He’s just a walking dildo with twitching equipment. All he wants from you is a good old fuck.

I call this voice Misty. Misty is the closest to me, she’s like a second skin. She has a strong dislike for people, persons, the universe. Left to her, we should both stay huddled by the fire of a burning world. She likes it when we do that, anyway. Close our eyes and imagine setting the world on fire.

Don’t let anything keep you from going after what you want, girlie, you’ve got this, said a soft, soothing voice.

Adrenna, I thought, short for adrenaline.

I like Adrenna, she speaks in a timorous voice, but I love her regardless.

Why do I love her, you ask? Because she enjoys fanning my embers with motivational speeches, quotes, and positive mantras.

Go for it, girly, she’d say.

You did it, darling, she’d cheer.

She’s always there, egging me on. Pushing me to be, do, and become.

Oh, I hate her! Me gritted, she made me believe I was special, I could do and be anything. But that’s all a lie. I’m not special, I can’t do shit! I’m just a regular girl, living in a fucked-up world.

Me hates Adrenna and the entire pack, left to her she’d rather silence them. That’s why she came to see him, the shrink, came to have him tell her what to do to silence the voices in her head.

“Tonye,” Said the Greek god, “Talk to me.”

Did he just call you Tonye? Gloom muttered, oh look at him leering at you like a dog in heat.

Leave her be, Gloom, said Bri, He looks like a good man.

Pfft! Said Doom, more like a good fuck.

Heh, heh, heh, chuckled Cyanide, how about we check him out on social, pluck off his contact and send his wife a message she’ll never forget.

Nah, retorted Misty, that’s too lame. Let’s make him come undone right here and send her the photos. That’ll send her weeping no doubt.

Talk to him, girlie, said Adrenna, go on.

Oh, shut up Adrenna, Me said, it’s your fault we’re here in the first place.

“There’s a slight scowl on your face, Tonye,” Greek god said, “Do you mind sharing that thought?”

A slight scowl, Brianna gasped.

She hates being imperfect.

Make her smile, she said to Adrenna, tell her those nice things you’re good at, go on, Adrenna, make her smile.

Don’t you dare, Adrenna, Me said, don’t you fucking dare. Make her smile for what?

“Would you rather write it down?” Said Greek god.

Pfft, now he wants to make you his pupil, Doom cackled.

Maybe that’s his kink, rejoined Gloom, a good old teacher-student liaison.

“I’ll get you a pen,” Greek god said, getting off his seat.

“Here,” He said, handing me a beautiful notepad and a fountain pen, “Write it down.”

“Write what down?” I asked in a whisper.

“Your thoughts,” He replied in smiles

“I don’t know what to write,” I croaked.

Of course, you wouldn’t know what to write you dumbo! Said Doom.

Why else did you think we’re in your head, silly, said Gloom

You’re just a fucked-up pariah we’re only trying to protect from this abysmal vortex called life, said Cyanide.

He’s waiting on us, we need to write something down, what if he gets angry and hate us? Said Bri

Oh, put it together, Bri, said Misty in anger, You’re dripping wet in heat already. Get a tampon or something, Jesus!

Write it down, girlie, go on, said Adrenna.

Who are you to write anyway? You’re not good with words, said Me, heck, you can’t even write a sentence without it riddled with grammatical errors. So, what the flipping hell do you want to write about?

“I don’t know what to write,” I said dejectedly.

“May I give you a pointer?” He smiled assuredly at me.

“Yes, please,” I responded.

“Begin with ‘I am’,” He said.

“I am?”

“Yes.”

“I am, what?”

“You tell me, Tonye,” He smiled at me, “What are you?”

I don’t know, I thought.

Some people think me a successful businesswoman, others see me as a friend, a lover, confidant, sister, and even a daughter.

But who am I? who really am I?

“Write down the two-word sentence, Tonye, and add the first word that pops up when you mentally complete the sentence,” He said.

What do I write? I asked them, the voices in my head, what do I write?

How the hell will I know, scoffed Doom.

Why don’t you tell us, wanker, said Gloom, you’re the one that brought us here?

Tell him you’re aware he wants to roll in the sack with you, winked Cyanide.

Write something nice, urged Bri in excitement, tell him about your trip to Calabar. I’m sure he’d like that.

Oh, please, snorted Misty, of all the places in the world to talk about, you had to mention Calabar?

Go on, Girlie, said Adrenna, write about your trip to Calabar. That was one of the happiest moments of your life, wasn’t it?

Yes, I thought in smiles, yes it was.

Good, Adrenna grinned, write that down.

Cut the bullshit, Adrenna, Gloom snapped. Then he turned his burning dark eyes to me and said:

Okay, bitch! Since you’re so bent on this path to self-destruction, how about writing this down.

Okay, I said in response when he paused.

My fingers, clutching the pen and placing it on the blank page of the notepad, waiting on him to tell me what to write.

I am, Gloom said.

I AM, I wrote.

SEVEN! Doom sniffed.

Seven? I questioned.

Yes, Cyanide grinned, we’re as much you as you are us. So, that makes us one.

Write it down, Tee, Bri pleaded, he’s getting impatient.

I AM SEVEN, Misty reiterated.

Go on, Adrenna coaxed, write it down, girly, you’ve got this.

I paused in reflection.

I am Seven? I pondered, That doesn’t make any sense.

That’s because you’re schizo, bitch! Me said, a fucking retard.

Then she snatched the pen from me and furiously scribbled the phrase on the notepad.

I AM SEVEN.

When my Greek god of a man took the book from me to read it, he had on a bright smile.

But when he read the content of the note, his jaw slackened in disbelief.

Yes, we all chorused in glee, deal with that, punk!