So I decided that my hellbrain is now an obnoxious and deeply hypocritical PTA/soccer mom named Linda. (Originally her name was Helen, but I have an OC named Hellen so that was too confusing.) Brain telling me I'm bad for being gay (or bad for dating a bi girl)? "Shut up, Linda, stop fucking trying to shut down the GSA." Brain telling me I'm bad for being white? "Linda, you do realize that "diversifying the student body" and "kicking out all the white students" are very different things, right?" Brain telling me I'm stupid? "Fuck you, Linda, your kids are only on the honor roll because they cheated in all their classes." It's helping a lot.
My asshole brain voice is Cindy because I don't know any Cindys and I associate it with the kind of bitchy sniping mean-girl.
My bad brain is a pack of otherwordly goblins sitting on my shoulders cackling mischeviously and tell me all the Worst Possible Outcomes
@Mala I'm reminded of the end of a Hyperbole and a Half comic. Why did the corn cause this to happen?
"Hey, so it looks like you've been having a really good week with BIGgie!" "...who?" "BIGgie, the Body Image Gnome! He's been so enthusiastic about the style you've been rocking lately!" "OH! Yeah, thanks! I was actually just about to throw on that look with the form-fitting shirt and the hat with all the pins and stuff on it and--" [sharp intake of breath, like a reverse hiss] "Ohhhh dear. That's what I came to chat with you about. I'm sorry, but BIGgie has had a... slight alteration of opinion. I'm afraid you're going to find that now you look like some kind of water balloon sculpture whose proportions were designed by a vengeful political cartoonist." "But--!" "I'm sorry, there's nothing we can do. Best of luck." [Communications are terminated; there remains only the empty static of the unfeeling void left by customer service representatives with bad news, and the distant, metallic laughter--or is it roaring?--of a spirit of fickle blessings and chaotic whims.]
