Thoughts That Plague Me

The following is a rewrite of one of the many conversations that happen in my head. I picture my conversations between two characters: Intelligence (a woman, dark hair, white Egyptian princess gown, modest, speaks my true thoughts) and The Other Hand (a man, rebel, James Dean persona, of course a leather jacket and jeans, speaks my alternate thoughts, usually flippant). This conversation took place this morning, in my kitchen, in my brain.

I: My head is killing me. My whole upper body is killing me. I think it's connected.

TOH: You knew this was coming.

I: I know I knew this was coming. Your advice isn't helpful. Why do people think pointing out the obvious is helpful? Stop talking.

TOH: What do you want from me? You knew this was coming.

I: How about prayer, encouragement, options?!

TOH: Of course you have options; EVERYone has options.

I: Like what? (quietly) My jaw is killing me. (Aloud to no one in particular) I don't want to think about my pain. I am going to choose not to be a part of it. The devil will get tired of trying. He has to get tired of trying, right? (To TOH) What options?

TOH: Quit.

I: That's stupid.

TOH: You are stupid. You think the devil gets tired. The only reason any of this is happening is because you are out front now. You know he doesn't like it. He hardly pays any attention to the people in the back. So, you have options.

I: THAT's your advice?!

TOH: It works. People do it all the time. They try to obey, and it hurts, so they stop showing up.

I: That is not an option. You are saying that I can keep suffering or quit and hide and hope the devil doesn't notice me anymore.

TOH: Yep.

I: Now you really are stupid. Do you really think choosing NOT to serve God will make things better? Don't answer. Why do I even ask you for help?

TOH: To hear how stupid NOT serving God is. To remind you, you know what you are supposed to be doing. To make you irritated enought to forget about your circumstances and prove me wrong.

I: Yah, well, it's working.