another me

There is a Me inside of me.

It is a very very angry Me.

This Me flings hot soup at unreasonable meepok aunties, threatens obnoxiously eager commuters pushing from behind with death, snarls at civil servants as the default mode of communication, sinks his butt firmly onto his seat when it's time to 'All rise and welcome the President' and blocks ministerial entourages and jeers at the object of the entourage [LHL]. This is the Me that gives people what they deserve.

I tell Me we must rise above, move on, move forward and be happy for the people who let us down, played us out, and still continuously rubbing it in our faces. Rising above.

This Me hates. He destroys. He taints.

I tell Me that there are bigger things to fight for, that there is a bigger picture: the poor, disenfranchised and the miserable, wretched as they are partly from continuing life mis-choices, but mostly the way they are from that big miasma called Life in Society.

This Me will gladly let the world burn; global warming, nuclear meltdowns and institutional poverty all seem trivial compared to personal affairs.

I fight Me sometimes. I tell him you are just what Dr Freud calls Id, the Thanatos, the unconscious result of unfortunate parenting.

I preoccupy Me, going to muay thai and willingly getting beaten, going to the gym every other day, running during the others, and practically doing something vigorous after and before sleep. No body should have to take that much punishment but mine does.

I pamper Me. With the unfailing security of the latest gadgets - the iPhone, the slr, the iPod and hiding behind the comfort of a laptop.

This Me sees through such deception and sees the ultimate fallibility of all things human and material. This is the Me that killed my mac, almost like tearing a human being and all the falsehoods such a small bundle of skin holds into shreds.

This is Me.