Rather hyper right now. Iced tea. Skittles. RAMEN NOODLES. All that good stuff. I just started my second quarter. I think I’ll like it. Okay, to be honest, I don’t know if I will or not. I told Kevin I would. I was pretty sure I was right. Maybe not though. We’ll see. I’m not that worried about it. (Me, the worrier. But honestly, I’m really not worried.) OH MY GOODNESS. I AM GOING TO KILL EVERYONE ONE OF THEM!!! I AM GOING TO PUT THEM IN THE GARAGE AND GAS THEM. And if I can’t find them all, I’ll exterminate them individually. I’m talking about THOSE RIDICULOUS CATS!!! One of them crapped on the bathroom floor! And YES, if one does something, THEY ALL DIE.
I am now hyper and mildly pissed off. Yes, that is MILDLY pissed off. You are lucky enough to have never seen me mad.
I’ve seen you mad.
I was not referring to you. This isn’t your blog anyway. It’s MINE. So stay out of it.
Now that we’re rid of my other self…
Speaking of that sort of thing, Kevin and I discussed schizophrenia and the possibility that I have it. He thinks yes. I think otherwise. I tend to think otherwise out loud even if I completely agree with him in secret.

I should be asleep. I was talking to Kevin on the phone and he made me get off and go to sleep. Well, he didn’t make me. It’s hard to do that over the phone. But I didn’t exactly need a lot of persuasion. And now I can’t sleep. I’m finally getting that mole on my arm checked out. Tomorrow. Have I ever mentioned that I HATE hospitals? They give me the creeps like nothing else does. Anyway, I suppose I should get to bed now. I shall proceed to do that.
Yeah, right.
Well, I’d be in bed if you would shut up.
So, what’s this about a mole? You mean cancer? Are you going to get chemo? Are you going to die?
They’ll probably just cut it out.
But what if you die?
You will too.
But I don’t want to die!
Neither do I.
Then DON’T!
Stop. Frankly, you’re scaring me.
What if you go bald?
Hopefully, it will grow back.
What if it doesn’t?
What do you mean, what if it doesn’t? The answer seems pretty obvious.
You know what I mean.
Will you stop? You think I want this? You think I want chemo? Or radiation? Or hair loss? You think I want to die? You think I want to stay in a hospital, the one place I absolutely hate? You really think I need your help to worry? You think any of this will happen?
Maybe.
But maybe not. And I don’t need you messing with my head when I’m nervous enough. It’s past your bedtime. Go to sleep.
Goodnight, Bridget. Even though we don’t always get along, I’ll miss you.
Goodnight, Myself. And stop being so pessimistic.
But –
Goodnight.

I think I expect too much. I’m a perfectionist. Those who have seen my room would say otherwise. But really, I am. I just have other things to focus on.
Like homework, Bridget. Get started.
Anyway, *smacks other self on head* I’m starting to wonder if maybe I’m a little too obsessed with perfection. This isn’t to say that things aren’t working out, because at the very least, they appear to be. I just wonder if I could handle it if they weren’t. I don’t want to find out. I’m not ready for that, and I don’t know if I ever will be. Maybe it’s not perfection I’m obsessed with. A couple of years ago, I was just focused on surviving, and I didn’t care about perfection. I just wanted the one person I trusted to be there for me. I wanted the few things I could count on to stay. Then we moved, and TKD was out. That was huge. I missed that so much. Then Jordan moved. At this point, the world had already turned upside down for me. It’s still upside down, you know. But it’s upside down in a good way. Nothing’s the same as it was back then. I’m almost a complete opposite. I didn’t realize that until just now, when I said it. But it’s true. I’m different. Most of my likes haven’t changed, but the rest of me has. The rest of my life has. I wonder how many times that’s going to happen.

I think I might be ready. For the black belt test. MY black belt test. Well, a lot of other people are testing too, but obviously I don’t have to be ready for their tests. Little scared though. THREE DAYS. GAAAHHHHH!!!!
Okay, I’m fine.
No, you’re not, Bridget. You’re too stressed out.
She’s got a reason to be! She’s gonna screw up so bad!!!
You two, shut UP!!!!
Ridiculous voices.
BTW, this is my 101st post. 😀

I am a weird person, you know? Oh right, it probably shows. Most people don’t talk to their multiple selves online. They’re probably pretty smart to do that. Excuse me, to NOT do that.
I wanna ramble. Again.
It’s not a bright idea. I know that.
You’ve seen me when I ramble.
Yeah. Not bright.
BUT….. here I go again!
Rambling about the fact that I shouldn’t even be rambling!
Silly me, myself, and I.
Oh, shut up, Bridget.
And do you realize how much space you’re taking up like this?
You shouldn’t be hitting the ‘enter’ button every time you finish a sentence. Get off wordpress, and go to bed.
You have issues.
Serious issues.

I just posted the last post two minutes ago. You know, I could just make a dozen posts and that would satisfy my random instincts. But it would be hard to keep track of.
It’s a possibility that your mind wanders too much, Bridget.
What did I tell you about calling me Bridget?
*sighs* All the same, you really are rather flighty. Looking back over some of your previous posts makes me fear for your sanity.
My sanity? You fear for my SANITY?
For whatever is left of it.
As a matter of fact, I wonder about it as well. The very fact that I exist causes me to doubt that there is any reason left in your mind.
Wait, when did YOU come into this?
Technically, his name is “I”. So you can call him “You” if you want, but it’s incorrect. I am Myself, if you hadn’t guessed.
Yes, I guessed. I’m a genius. In case you hadn’t guessed.
There you go, using “you” again.
I’m not going to use 3rd person here. Suppose we drop the subject? QUICKLY?
But –
Actually, I have a question. Why is “I” a male?
Because I wanted to be.
What makes you think you have a choice?
As if you have one.
Rather argumentative, isn’t he?
Don’t try to get on my good side, Myself.
I thought you weren’t going to talk in 3rd person.
I called you by your name.
You guys are ignoring me!!!
HOW MANY SELVES DO I HAVE???
*starts to count* Well, this one, and this one, and we can’t forget that one, and – OOOH! I forgot about her! And… *continues counting*
This is enough to make me go mad.
You see why I feared for your sanity.
Oh, go away. Both of you.

I should have posted ages ago ’cause there’s a lot of stuff going on, but I didn’t have time. (I don’t really have much time now even.) I’m overworking myself on geometry; 60 pages yesterday, increasing by ten every day after that, but I’ll be done by this thursday.
Sierra’s back in town! She’s been in Canada for the longest time up at school, and she’s back for Christmas break! So she’s gonna stay the night with me, and I wish she would log on so I could talk to her. Grrrr! Sierra! Where are you?
I went over to Kevin’s house last weekend and killed my fingers on his guitar, got addicted to red bull, of all things, lost a sparring match (but we are SO doing that again) and in general had fun.
I took a practice SAT a couple weeks ago. I scored higher than average but not good enough if I wanna get a scholarship. So I guess I won’t be taking the real one until March.
You should be doing homework, not blogging.
Oh, shut up. Ever since you were born, you’ve been the bane of my existence. Can’t you leave me alone on Christmas break?
You don’t get Christmas break.
I like to pretend I do. Leave me alone and let me finish blogging.
Yikes, myself never leaves me alone for a second. Unfortunately, she/it is right, and I do have homework (a lot of it, in fact) and I haven’t even eaten breakfast yet. So ciao.
-Bridget

You know, it’s not really healthy for you to argue with me. For you, I mean, if I get mad.
Never mind that, it’s time for an argument.
%*@#! Leave me alone!
Okay. *cowers*
The End.

Uggh, I’m bored.
Well, Bridget, maybe you should do something.
Like what?
Well, Bridget, you could do homework.
Say what?
I said, ‘Well, Bridget-‘
There’s no need for you to say it again. I was expressing my shock and disbelief that you, knowing me as well as you do, would suggest such a thing.
Well, Bridget, you could also read.
I could, couldn’t I? I already tried that. If I hadn’t already, I would do that instead of asking myself what to do.
Well, Bridget, if you ask me, you are actually asking me.
You are myself. Therefore I shall refer to you as such. Leave me alone.
Well, Bridget, you did ask me for ideas.
Why do you keep calling me Bridget?
It’s your name, Bridget.
Well, there’s no need to be so repetitive about it.
Fine, be that way. One would think you didn’t like me.
Sometimes I hate you. You never shut up. If it weren’t for you, I might actually sleep at night! Imagine that!
Well, it’s your fault too for creating so many interesting predicaments for yourself!
I’d like to go to California.
I’m sorry, where were we? I thought we were arguing.
I miss the beach. And the green walls of the hotel we always stayed in. And the ocean!
You’re going totally off subject! We’re supposed to be arguing! The title of this post says (and I directly quote), “A quick argument with myself.” So argue!
I always liked waiting for the tide to come in. It would start by just barely licking my toes and before I knew it, it was at my waist and knocking me over every other wave.
*sighs*
You know, salmon is really good the day after it’s cooked, when it’s been in the fridge for a day and it’s nice and cold.
I give you up.
The End.