Goblins

I think there are goblins in my head.

There is no other explanation for the way my brain works.

There’s Uptight Editor, in charge of screening out stupid remarks, proofreading and approving everything I say. Editor’s extremely sleep-deprived, so it does a rather sloppy job. Perfectionist, Editor’s boss, has a short fuse and blames Editor for most of its mistakes.

There’s Cynical Skeptic, who hates romance with a passion, wants to rip every shred of hope away from everyone, and is ironically gullible when it comes to its own beliefs.

There’s Vindictive Bitch, who yells the equivalent of racial slurs whenever situations get heated, always being frantically restrained with difficulty by Reason. Thin-Skinned, oversensitive and easily embarrassed, is often the one to alert Vindictive Bitch to the heated situation.

Narcissistic Egocentrist is there too, but too busy admiring itself in the mirror to notice most of the time. People don’t notice NE much. Hopefully.

There’s also Lazy Bum, the procrastinator, who burps and asks what’s for dinner. Editor hates Lazy.

Together, they make I.

There’s Fluffy Kittens, who loves the hell out of anything and everything, especially cute animals, happy endings, and all that is good and sweet in the world.

There’s Doormat Milquetoast, who is a hardcore pacifist and wants to please everyone and everything at the expense of our neutral beliefs.

There’s Blabbermouth, who goes on and on about everything and doesn’t think twice before speaking, making Editor’s life a living hell.

That’s Me. I like me.

Then there is Myself. The well-adjusted one. The one who keeps them all together, the one that is the right balance of accommodating and unyielding, critical and appreciative, and utterly not in control.

I wish I were more like myself.

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