Me to Myself: Pfftsht…I’m frustrated.
My Inner Investigator: Why?
Me to My Inner Investigator: This is the second time that he has gone to bed and not responded to a text I sent to let me know he’s not dead or anything.
My Imaginary Boyfriend in my head: See, this is what happens when you think I’m not good enough…
Myself to everyone: Yeah, uh uh…girl.
My Inner Investigator to everybody: Why is this frustrating?
Me to Myself: Well, is this a precedent? Am I supposed to say something because I don’t like how it feels and I don’t know what to do?
My Inner Drill Sergeant to everybody: The damn fool is having a whole ass real relationship with this idiot in her MIND.
Myself to everyone: Yeah, uh-huh…
My Imaginary Boyfriend in my head: What’s wrong with existing in her mind? Who else is going to recite Invictus to you naked in the kitchen getting you more cake hmm besides me?!
My Catastrophic Self to everybody: I’m upset that it is starting to feel like he is neglecting me or avoiding me and I don’t have to put up with this shit from anybody so he can go straight to hell and die so I can be alone, in peace, drunk, minding my own fucking business, like was designed by the chemicals in the fucking stars a trillion years before I was even fucking born!!!
My Imaginary Boyfriend in my head: I love you. Don’t be upset.
My Inner Wound whispers to Me: I feel abandoned.
Me to everyone: Oh? Is that what this is? Okay, whew okay, okay guys… I know how to handle this… all together now… 1, 2, 3, BREATHE.
My rational self to everyone: Remember, he is a mortal.
Myself to everyone: Amen.
My rational self to everyone: He does not belong to us. He doesn’t know how desperately we crave deep connections and that it is hard for us to maintain them when we get them because we’ve been hurt and we overreact. We do not have to mesh with him, I repeat, we can like him but we don’t have to mesh; he is not our only outlet for connections, let’s not forget.
My Imaginary Boyfriend in my head: Well if anyone is asking me I don’t like him, he’s too good looking and he’s entirely too young and he’s too close to well me for my taste, but whatever, I’ll be here making suggestions until you see the light, my love.
Me to My Inner Wound: For now, Relax, sweetheart. Stay Cool. You like him and past us would behave destructively right now. Relaxing is the opposite of what we would normally do in this instance so let’s try that this time.
Myself to Me: Duh.
My Creative Spirit to everybody: Let’s fucking find other outlets babe, hell yeah! Outlets, Outlets, OUUUUUTTTTTLETS!
The next day
Me to Him: I need a lot of attention.
Him to me: You can have all of mine if you want it.