There are physicists, philosophers and makers of great literature in my head. They bicker and go at one another like drug addicts, spitting out half formed theories in hope that someone will talk back and contradict them so that another opinion, a carefully knitted scarf that can be worn by them all, can be made from the fibres that came from odd dreamings and moments of boredom when a mind wandered to brilliance. They pull each others hair with contradictions and look up one anthers skirts by feverishly looking through notebooks with flimsy spines and scrawled notes hidden inside with the ideas of another mind. They scavenge for whims along a plain of guesses in hope that they might find one that meets the criteria they’re looking for.
And they write them down, in their notebooks and computers and they preach their worn down wisdoms, they make their case to the world as gadflies do to skin. They bite and poison with knowledge and mystery as their venom, they plant doubt in their pupils so that they will learn to question and doubt what they see even more than what they don’t.
Sometimes they talk to me, they yell at my consciousness and demand that I find things out for them, so that they are not left behind in the moving world. Sometimes they give me advice, they sit me down and point at all the objects in my mind, telling me why they are there and what they might be of use for.
They speak of an afterlife, and then a different afterlife, they speak of possible other realms and theories that I have put into their mouthes. They tell me about existence and humanity and the wavering nature of being alive, each sentence is a contradiction to the last until an opinion is formed. The contradictions are the foundations and the opinion is the house that I live in, the theories are the books.
They ask me questions and force out answers even though neither of us know the answer because we are the same. They paint pictures and read books over my shoulders, they nitpick at my choices and criticise me to no end, but for the better I change.
These are the characters in my head and they are almost always