“I remember how hard it is to be young. I remember how hard it is to be rejected for the first time and so what I want you to do is close your eyes and I can see you so don’t cheat me here. Close those eyes of yours. Close them real tight. I want you to imagine the first person that broke your heart, the first person that said something shitty about you, the first person who dumped you, the first girl who changed her number because you called her sixty times in one day. The first person who didn’t know how good you were and then miss you.. Think of them and then I want you to sing at the top of your fucking lungs.”—Tegan Quin (via teganquinbanter)
Imagine going through an average day. “Who” wakes up in the morning? (Who picks out your sleepwear?) Who decides what to do first? Is someone in charge of the morning rituals? Who fixes breakfast? (Sometimes it might be the “health food fascist,” “sometimes the junk food junkie.”) Who decides what to wear? Is there someone who plans your day? A list-maker? A rehearser? Who goes to work (take a little time and consider that this might be a whole crew of subpersonalities, depending on circumstances)? Who plans your evening? Do you have a daydreamer, a fantasizer, a romantic, a veg-out-in-front-of-the-tv-with-beer-and-pizza? Who else?
The answer is simple, it’s
ME, MYSELF & I, the daydreamer, fantasizer,
the one who wakes up and have that cup of coffee, decides what to do first and what to wear for the day…