Look at my blog, I said.
I posted some new things, I said.
Make comments, I (think I) said.
...
Why do I let my parents on my blog again?
How about I write my thoughts on the subject in a fairly entertaining way?
{The green italics are the little reasonable voice in my head.}
[The red bold font is the annoying, bratty emotions.]
(This normal font is me.)
Basically it's viewing my reason and impulse and myself as three separate people. I actually think this will be kind of fun, hypothesising how different aspects of myself would interact...
* * *
A: It's polite, you can't just tell him to leave you alone forever. B: You like having feedback. ANY FEEDBACK. And C: Remember that time you deleted his comment because you didn't like it? Remember how guilty you were? Remember how hurt he was?
Oh, shut up. He's always tries to be funny and it's just NOT, okay--
Haven't we established that your-our-my sense of humor {if we-me-you have one at all} and his are very different, and it's a free country. You-we-me need to just deal with it.
Um, I think I'm being forgotten in all of this.
What the heck is with the multiple pronouns?!
Technically, you and I and her are the same person, therefore my opinion is you all's and vice-versa.
No it isn't.
I actually agree with--let's refer to you as Emotions for all intents and purposes--Emotion here. We wouldn't be having this 'conversation' here if we all agreed. You (Reason) and Emotion are separate trains of thought I'm trying to sort out. We are pretty much one person (and in all other circumstances you don't exist and probably won't again when I finish this.)(I'd go crazy if this was how I solved everything.) you are right at that. But we obviously don't share opinions.
That's kinda depressing. [About not existing.]
Technically, we don't exist now. We're a dramatization of her slight confliction with letting her Dad comment.
Oh, shut up with your Technicallies.
Technicalities.
Arrrgh... You and I are not going to get along at all.
I don't see what the argument is. He means well, and you-us like knowing he likes what you do.
Even if he is a bit weird. Face it, we're kind of boring.
Downright dull.
Yeeeaaaaaah...
Maybe it's a bit like stealing your thunder.
That's it. Oi! Someone give me a metaphorical large blunt object. Anything at all. I'm not picky.
Oh god, my inner Rosie...
I don't think you should be making her angry at YOU.
Screw it! I gots CLAWZ!
I think it would be kind of fun to write how this all plays out...
YOU. ARE. HORRIBLE!
