A Segmented Mind
Sure as the crow might caw!, I do have a segmented Mind.
It is a fine thing, schizophrenia, no? Truly, 'tis one devoid of all sense and rationale.
A life resides inside of another life's head, two existences living inside of one another. It seems a bad pun, does it not?
I awaken to a warm bed.
I feel comfortable, but I know I can remain but a short time.
For I hate the comfort.
I must leave the pleasant bedroom, for I have come to love it and therefore have come to hate it.
Entering the kitchen, I fast scent the beautiful roses. I love the roses.
I hate the roses.
I love them.
I walk outside through a flap in the main entrance, into the beautiful sunlight.
I hate the sunlight.
I love it.
When I stray far from my home, a peninsula within the mouth of a forest is to greet me.
I fear the darkness beyond the trees.
I love the darkness, what fear it inspires.
I fear the fear.
I love the fear.
I fear to love, for I must then hate.
He is not me, I say. He is not, but he is me. He lives in my Mind, does he, and my Mind says that he is me.
Yet, I deny those words. He is not me.
I deny those words as I move to the woods, because he says I should. I have no control, for he possesses the Body and I am but a simple figment. I vie for command of this vessel, but I never succeed.
He is an animal, and it is his joy to enter these woods. His quadrupedal form should be mine, but it is not. He barks, pants, barks again at the smaller creatures running to-and-fro to escape his presence. His lacking intellect will not allow for him to do what I might do, but I would not harm the squirrel or the bird; I am not that way.
His stupidity and aggression do not allow for him to simply leave them be, as he wanders further and further into the darkness, expanding the distance between himself and the home that is his bearing. His Master, and my Master by relation, will become furious when he must come to retrieve us both. The animal will become lost, and it will be I who is subject to be punished.
He is a mongrel, an animal that cannot care. His Mind is weak, and he deserves not this vessel in which he resides.
I will command this vessel, I decide, as he bounds throughout these thick forested paths.
His weak mental state allows him the barest knowledge to follow a passage carved into the woods, and yet he uses it to collect sticks and rocks like a simpleton.
I resolve to command his Body. One day, I will be, and he will not be.
One day, I conclude, as he yips and slobbers and whines for Master to collect him. One day, I will become the Master.
You would not like me that day, I warn him. You should not let me out.