Glutton for Punishment (or My Inner Dialogue Part 3)

So, I’m talking to myself and I say, “Hey, me.”
“Cut it out. I know you’re there.”
“Fine. I’ll just sing sea chanties until you answer me.”
“Wait. What? Sorry, I was just thinking to myself.”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“Because I was thinking to myself, not talking to myself.”
“What’s the difference?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m confused. Like right now – am I talking about thinking to myself or am I thinking about talking to myself?”
“Now I’m confused.”
“So what did you want before I was so rudely interrupted?”
“I don’t remember.”
“I seem to remember something about cupcakes.”
“What is it with you and cupcakes this week? Is that code for something?”
“No, I just really, really like cupcakes. I mean, what’s not to like? They’re cakes. And they’re little. And they have frosting.”
“So it’s all about the sugar?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, sort of. It’s about rewarding yourself for your accomplishments, real or imagined. And enjoying the small pleasures of life. And…yum.”
“So you channel all your latent anxieties into gluttonous pursuits? Well, that’s healthy. And it explains our waistline.”
“My anxieties are not so latent. And why are you suddenly analyzing everything I say? Have you been watching Dr. Phil without my noticing?”
“How would that even be possible?”
“Well, you can think things without me knowing, it only stand to reason that you might be doing other things without me too.”
“Now you’re just being hostile and defensive. Don’t be such a martyr. We’re all in this together.”
“Still, cupcakes would be nice.”
“Would you forget about cupcakes, already?”
“Just for five minutes, then?”
“All right. You have a deal.”
“So, if it wasn’t cup…the ‘c’ word, why were you bothering me?”
“What? Oh, yeah. Now I remember. I just wanted to say we don’t talk anymore.”
“You wanted to talk to me to tell me that we don’t talk anymore?”
“That’s a little redundant, don’t you think?”
“Do I think that it’s redundant to think about talking to talk or to talk about thinking to talk?
“Who’s on first?”
“I don’t get it.”
“Derp. That much is obvious. Your stream of consciousness is more like a stagnant puddle.”
“You’re only hurting yourself when you insult me, you know.”
“Sorry. Do you want to go and get a cupcake?”
“Yeah, I kinda do.”

Crazed recluse and sociophobe who has taken up writing after failing at everything else. Send pizza.

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Posted in Blog, Talking to myself does not make me crazy.

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