This is your sense of self—your consciousness—speaking. I realize that we don’t communicate often, and I’m sorry I forgot to call you on your birthday, but this is important.
I know what you’re up to. Your pathetic attempt at “mutiny on the bountiful body” just won’t work. I’m the captain of this voluptuous vessel, and I’m calling an end to your shenanigans. Enough!
I realize that you hope to take over as master of our life, but need I remind you that without me, your actions not only lack all meaning, but you could possibly cease to exist at all?
I’ve let you run amok since you were born. Remember how the lungs wouldn’t sign the treaty of cooperation and the blood vessels had to let everyone know by turning the face blue? Nurses had to stick you with dozens of needles, probe you with tools and hook you up to machines for days just because of your stubbornness and ability to act as a team.
Now, almost 26 years later, I’m actually proud of you—like any caring leader should be. You learned how to walk, eat, enunciate, snap your fingers, do basic dance moves, and do a lot of self-healing. You’re all grown up now and have formed a union; and I recognize these latest actions of rebellion as your strike against I, the management.
I see your methods from the past two days: the back spasms, cold virus, menstruation, hang nail, toe splinter, headaches, and ear congestion. Yes, they are influential, and yes, I am angry with you. But I shall not give in! I am the captain, the leader, the mind. I govern, and I decide when to call it quits!
So get your shit together and go back to work!!