“We’re gonna get you,” the voice inside my head said.

“Well, this is new,” I replied.

“Yep.”

“Who are you and what are you doing in my mind?”

“I don’t know,” said the Voice.

“You don’t know who you are?”

“Not a clue. But I know I’m gonna get you,”

“A minute ago you said “WE’RE gonna get you”, now it’s “I”. What’s going on there?”

“I was still working out my identity. At first we were a collection of impulses, then I compiled into a personality.”

“That’s strange,” I frowned.

“Stranger than any conversation with a voice in your head?”

“I suppose not. So who were you? What do you want?”

“Well, I think I was a dissociated collection of unconscious preferences.”

“You’re my unconscious desires? Like my Id? The devil on my shoulder?”

“If you say so, I don’t know much about that.”

“But if I know about it, and you’re in my head, surely you must know?” I frowned again.

“Shit, you’re right,” the Voice paused, “This doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.”

“Maybe I’m going insane.”

“Maybe WE’RE going insane.”

“Well, at least we’re not going insane alone.”

“Or are we?”

I thought about that for a moment.

“Stop that,” said the voice.

“Stop what?” I asked.

“Thinking without talking to me. It’s rude.”

“What difference does it make? If you can hear my thoughts anyway, what difference does it make?”

“I feel left out.”

“Sorry.”

“The damage is done,” it huffed, “Now I feel like you’re trying to hide things from me.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“How can I trust that?”

“I don’t know. How long are you going to be here for?”

“Why? Are you sick of me already?”

“Not necessarily. I’m just wondering.”

“Well, now I feel like you don’t like me.”

“I don’t dislike you. But are we going to be having this conversation forever?” I wondered, “Like are you going to be there talking to me for the rest of my life?”

“Would that be so bad?”

“I don’t know, maybe it would be fine,” I offered, “But it feels weird if I’m having sex or something and you’re just there with a running commentary.”

“Wait, why is it you having sex and me commenting?” asked the Voice.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m here too, can’t I be the sexually active one? And you just observe?”

“Shut up, it’s my body! If anyone’s having sex with it, it’s me.”

“We’re both in this body, actually, so...”

“Yeah but you’re an intruder. I’ve looked after this body for over twenty years, you’ve just turned up today.”

“So I should just sit in your head being unhappy forever while you go about life?”

“That works for me,” I shrugged.

“Well, fuck you,” the Voice aggressed, “I want you to know that I’m always going to be here, judging you and hating you. There will always be a part of you that hates you.”

“Fine.” I said.

It wasn’t fine. And the Voice knew it.