My Letter to My Conscience

Dear Conscience,

We can’t go on this way. Agreeing to disagree is not the best strategy to apply to our relationship; after all, we need to agree on the majority of situations that we come across. I can’t handle having another facet to my multifaceted personality, six is my threshold.

We need to agree and, when that cannot be done, we need to compromise but, ultimately, when we make a decision, we need to stand by it. This is what I am writing to you about: your lack of consistency. You always know what I want and I think part of you wants it too, but you’re not as straightforward. You are vague and confusing; always thinking about the unforeseen consequences that may never materialize. In all honesty, I think you think too much. It is better to regret the things you do than to regret the things you don’t do. 

You see, if we are in agreement, then what we say/think will match what we do. If we are not in agreement, then I will probably be beating myself up with a figurative frying pan at some point due to mere acts of poor judgment and stupidity. You are supposed to help me. If we agree on these acts as being justified then they are no longer stupid. If we always agree, everybody wins. It is only when we disagree, that I am caught in guilt quicksand: the more I attempt to defend my actions, the more you bury me in grains of reason and logic. We need to work as a team. We can enjoy every day if you and I work together. If we’re on the same page, if we speak the same language, we could be great. It’s like that time I learned that “montgolfiere” meant hot-air balloon in French instead of fiery Mongolian. Something that has so much potential is, in reality, quite disappointing because it was lost in translation. That analogy actually makes no sense but I’m on a roll, don’t hate.

I don’t care if you don’t care and you don’t care if I don’t care but I do care and you do care but we keep acting like we don’t care. Let’s stop the madness. Come to think of it, technically, everything I’ve ever done wrong is your fault because you were there when they happened. Don’t put on a blindfold, call it impulse and feed me to the dogs. Take my hand. Be the weight that keeps me from flying away, that keeps me on the ground. You could be happy, too.

I am a child. I will do what I want when I want unless you tell me otherwise. So don’t. Next time we are contemplating overnighting for my unpaid internship, you must agree that it’s worth it. Do not tell me that I am not being paid to do such a sacrifice, the lack of sleep will not help me sell my idea during the presentation that day, and that no one hires a zombie. Next time I want to go to happy hour with some friends in the middle of the week, you must agree that I need to have some time to wind down. Do not tell me that happy hour never really ends at 8pm, that I shouldn’t be consuming so much cheap alcohol, or that those bar nuts have been touched by other nuts by association.

I trust your intuition because I know that you know better – although I’m not sure why since you’ re already the voice inside my head *cue Blink 182*. You’re the rational one. That’s supposed to be a strength because so many feel that emotions are a source of weakness. I think we both know that Heart has betrayed us before. She is sincere and passionate and life is so intense when she overpowers Brain. And then we almost lose Brain because Heart is bungee jumping off of cliffs for kicks. Good times. Anyway, rational. It’s better, at least until you can figure out a balance once the scraps from the heart paper shredder are taped back together. You are there to look out for me but don’t rain on our parade. Let’s just agree to be happy…within reason.

With love,
Me

Read the reply from my conscience…

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One thought on “My Letter to My Conscience

  1. Pingback: My Conscience Replies… « Bambi's Soapbox

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