From... "Do You Mind."

Light bounces into the pit of my one bedroom apartment. With the sun comes traffic, it makes the walls seems like cardboard. I brace myself against the noise and I remind myself that, “Today is the first day, of the rest of my life.” I try to keep my breakfast down while I hum that mantra to myself. I remind myself that being stuck in an elevator for five hours was not traumatic, but it did give time to think. One thought circled my brain for five hours:
Someone inside me is trying to kill me.
  
From that sweaty little elevator I pictured my Id behind the wheel of my 1989 gun-metal-green Honda Accord, driving on to the tracks of an on coming train, grinning. Today is the first step of my course correction. I scheduled an appointment with a therapist.
  
"God, we just don't want to die alone."
  
“Who said that?” I say aloud to no one. Where is that voice coming from? Voices? I actually hear too many voices to count.  My subconscious shouting, except instead of one voice, there are fifty individual consciousnesses, each raising their right hand, jumping up and down, shouting, "Me."

At the top of their Mormon tabernacle choir lungs. "Meeeee," they shout. Answering my question.

Maybe a drink would be a good idea? They sing in unison, "Nooooo."
I have problems. The choir again, "YESSSSS."