Monday, January 18, 2010

I talk a lot when I dream.

Now, tell me more about this change.
Well,it's odd because I've been this way before. So, mostly it's a change back.
To the old you?
Well, that's what I call her.
I thought you said she was in your head?
That too. I told you, it's all really complicated.
Make it less complicated then.
It's hard to word things like this.
Try your best.
She sits there and tells me I'm wrong.
There's a house. She walks through it. The whole place is messy and disheveled, like someone was writing a book but got too carried away. There's stacks of paper every which way. She picks up little stacks of it at a time to put in this massive filing cabinet that she keeps in the dining room.
Well, what's supposed to be the dining room.
She makes my life difficult. She's always telling me I'm wrong and that I'm a horrible person. She contradicts all my thoughts. She intimidates me and instigates bad situations. She's nicer when I drink or get high.
So, she's like, an alter ego?
No. Alter egos are wanted.
Not necessarily.
But aren't they nicer to their real self?
In most cases it would seem that way.
She's only nice to me when I'm almost dead.