After fishing for sometime, I was sure I could not pull anything coherent out of the sea of my fractured mind. In the absence, there was only a possibility for an end and this end beckoned me to bring it about. A vision of a sunset and a farewell from a movie surfaced. It seemed fitting. I asked the other me to put my other half on the phone. I thought I would say goodbye, do my duty, then mimic that vision and sail off in the sunset. However, this plan was based on miscalculation. I made the assumption that my face on the screen was like me and would appraise my request as clearly proper thus undeniable. The flaw was in the assumption that we were the same. Clearly the other me had the fish and I did not. The face like mine in the screen swallowed deeply then responded to my request, "I do not think that is for the best. Let's not make this a big deal. This situation will be easier to forget, if this call was just to ended now." The refusal to merely show me the fish hit me as absurd. I did not want the carcass. I want to end this stand off and the other me refused my sensible request as if I was phishing. The course was set. I could not let it end in such a way. I was wronged.
The indignation started to inflate inside myself, pushing all the incoherent words to the sides. I could feel it getting bigger with each passing second. All the other words floating in my mind were squeezed between my skin and the indignation. From the pressure, a counter thought was formed from the words being shoved together. I needed to control myself. This fight was going to lead to a defeat that would cause suffering or a victory that caused even more suffering. It was clear if I left it alone, then I would be better off. To overdetermine the reasoning I added the thought that I did not even want the carcass, so it was pointless. Even though other thoughts started clinging to it and pressing back against the indignation, these thoughts started a chain of other thoughts that contradict each other in the proper order of steps. I could first use my fingers as a counter, or I could ask for a second, or I could focus on the good intentions of the other me... This chain of contrary thoughts led to a greater state of bewilderment and a collapse. Meanwhile, my indignation clearly and simply replied that this chain of thoughts missed the point. I was wronged. Because of its clarity, it was able to move to its teleological end. I responded to my other me's refusal in a firm voice, "I am not trying to debate with you right now. I just need to say goodbye to my other half."
The voice from the screen rebuffed my will again by saying, "There is no need to say good bye. I am right here to take care of them. I am going to hang up because this conversation is going nowhere. We are just flugging a dead horse, in fact I would say a whole cart full." Before the phone went to dial tone, I yelled, "Do not hang that phone up!" The indignation bellowed out of myself changing the weather vane of the conversation. "If you do, you will be sorry. You know what is floating in my head. All your secrets are mine, but the difference is you want them to stay in your head and I do not care if they get out. Fate may make me die and live in Hell, but I will make your life a living hell. You know exactly how I think, so you know I will do it." As I yelled the threat the sound rushed back into my ears. Even though it sounded good to me to bring ruin on my other, I knew I was not going to do it, because my face on the screen froze with fear. The other me was not going to force my hand. Their fear showed with a clarity that words rarely display. They would not hang up the phone. I dug in the vein for a while longer yelling more threats allowing my indignation to mix with rage. I reminded myself I was in the right. My other self still did not conform to my will, thus I was still wronged. I commanded that they put my partner on the phone.
My voice from the screen responded by trying to soften the hard edges of my voice, "Okay. Let's both take a step back. I understand this is a stressful situation. Let's not do anything rash. Let's take a second to think this through." My face on the screen modeled its desire. It looked calm, but I knew it was a calm before a storm. It could not hide that it wanted to flee. It must have known that it was failing, so my voice added "Did the teleporting company offer any services to help with this situation? I am sure they can help." This was a stall tacit that did not address the simple fact that I was wronged. The other me did not want to give me what was rightfully mine. I felt I needed to make them submit to my demand. I snapped back with a tone that implied the or else, "They already helped enough. Now, stop running me in circles and put my partner on the phone." I knew I had the flea in my fingers. It was time to roll it about until I found the right angle to crack its body.
With shock, I admitted to myself that it was clear I could be bullheaded. The mite continued to stall as if an extra minute might alter the outcome. My voice from the screen tried once more to wrestle control from me. "That is fine. There is no need to involve the company. It was just an idea. That is all. I am just worried about that rage. I know that rage and how that rage can destroy, because it is mine, too. We do not want you to leave this family a battlefield filled with vultures. It is not going to help anything. I will do as was asked, but first take a few deep breaths with me, yes?" The other me went directly into a breathing exercise, hoping that I would instinctively mimic the movements. My indignation held me from that human response. I wanted the other me to do as I said. This time I added the or else and other hurtful words that I am usually disgusted by, then for good measure I said things I never wanted to hear. I needed to show my might. I was justified because I was wronged.
Staring at the screen, I watched with dry eyes as my eyes on the screen started to moisten with emotion. I exacted what was owed to me. Those tears, those emotions were caused by me, like a crying puppet on stage. My will extended beyond my Earthly body. I wanted to celebrate in those tears because they were mine. I made them happen. They were an offering on the altar of justice. I tried to smile, but I could not alter my mouth and raise it upward. I told myself that suffering was not mine, but I could not convince myself of it. Each breath I heard from the screen sounded like my distress. Each wince from the face on the screen looked like my sadness. As I watched the tears drop one by one to the ground, I commanded myself not to check my face because I reasoned they were not mine. My actions righted the wrong. I said nothing, the screen made no noise, we sat in the emotion, until the voice of my better half broke us free. "I will take over from here. Give me the phone."
YOU ARE READING
The Self Its Self
Science Fiction"Know thyself". What an onerous task, but alas it cannot be delegated away. Even though it is a forever burden, there is no guarantee of success. What if that self was staring back at me. Would I even know it? Would I be too close?
