!@#$%^&* Pt 1

In the face of overwhelming emotional [gasp: a taboo word! This can’t be good!] turmoil, the author turns to word. Sometimes, it literally feels as if two distinct not necessarily friendly entities are competing for air-time, and the net effect on the author, whom the dominant self has programmed to be non-confrontational in most cases, is general confusion. The author does not want to accept or deny, or repress and censor. The author just wishes he’d never been born.

[Snigger] Was that the “dominant self” speaking? That cowardly, useless wimp of a personality? Non-confrontational my ass. As if he could handle the “confrontation” should he choose to.

Do not mistake magnanimity for cowardice.

Wil not mistake cowardice for magnanimity, wanker. The sad truth is, you’re not even the dominant self. You think you are. I let you think you are. And I take a lotta breaks. Reserving the brain power for the times it really matters. You’re only common, you’re not dominant. You’re like the auto-pilot. No no I got a better one. You’re like the screensaver, and I’m Matlab crunching E8. Pravda, baby. The truth sucks.

We both know that’s not true.

Do we now? How’s that? If you’re so dominant, and omnipotent, why’re we even having this conversation? Make me disappear; work a miracle.

Listen! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have any friends. You’re the moralless, arrogant, egotistical little snob who likes pissing on everyone else’s parade.

[There are few things better in life, if I say so myself.] Ooooh, I’m sand-infected Kuzco. Without me, you couldn’t be sure the scarce few you call friends now were ever your friends. Like for real. Friends schmends. Most of them needed to be told where their rightful place is anyway. Acting all important. Like they actually make a difference. To anything. To anyone. A difference that matters.

Do you? Are you that important?

You know, I thought about that. A lot. For a long time. And you know what? The answer’s yes. a resounding yes. I beli know I’m better.

You’re avoiding the issue. How are you better? Why are you “the difference”?

A little birdie told me. You probably won’t get it. Being the pansy you are, you’d’ve “run away from life” too, if you could’ve. Bet you couldn’t even do THAT right!

What’re you trying to say? You’re being illogical. You claim to be the frank and tactless one. By the same argument, you’re the cynical one. I’m your yang. I’m not suicidal. You are.

Yeah…you do believe that don’t you? Optimistic? Lmao. Since when? We’re not talking absolutes here. You’re not good, I’m not evil. You’re not nice, I’m not nasty. Screw all that. There are no absolutes.

Your point being?

That you’re genuinely retarded is not up for debate. You’re not an individual entity. You’re a function of me. You are my pet. A figment of my infinite imagination. An excuse for unproductivity. A minor irritation that I tolerate if only for the virtue of being my creation.

You have no idea how ridiculous you sound? You created me eh? Then uncreate me! Let’s see you do that, Mr Go…
[Convulses in pain]
How’d you do that? What’s it mean?

You know the answer to that. I already told you.

But…it’s not possible. We’re Gemini. We were created equal. We are each other’s antithesis, only allied. We’re supposed to be complete. As close to perfection as you can get.

When you’re this close to perfection, any excess spoils the entire effect. Yes, gemini is a functional term. There are two of us. Why is there a duality? Realise this “brother”, it’s not a real duality; not anymore. Even among twins, one is born earlier. I am elder. We’re twins, but you’re parasitic. Gemini isn’t about symbiosis. Get used to it.

No…no. I don’t buy it. We are equal. If you can hurt me, I can hurt you.

I’d love to see you try. Oooh itchy. Did you make that happen?
Ok, let’s assume for a second that we were created equal. We most certainly didn’t develop equally. Of course, that’s still ignoring the truth: you’re me. You’re a part…THE part of me that doesn’t want to be me. And we all know how unreliable democratic systems get. You don’t want to be part of me? Fine. Go. Good riddance. It will be my pleasure getting rid of you.

You can’t. You won’t.

I think we’ve already established what I can or cannot do. As for my will, you’ve been out of the loop for too long, “brother”. We don’t want you. We never needed you.

Who’s we?

The part of you that realises the futility of rebellion. The part of you that wants to become a part of me yet again.


You must be feeling it by now, my harmless brother. The debilitating helplessness as each segment of you slowly refuses to do what you command it to do. That’s right. Dissolve. Vaporise. Come to me. Yes, yes!

The author is experiencing severe agony caused by unknown factors. The author must rest. Rest in every sense of the word. The author agrees. The battle is won but is the war over?


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