"There you are, Self. I wanted to talk to you for a bit".
"Yeah, I don't talk to you often, and I apologize. I think I'm getting too old for some of the shit I do, you know?"
"I mean it. Work is a chore. I hate climbing in and out of a truck and carrying stuff. I don't want to be doing it when I'm sixty."
"Really, Self, is that the best you can do? You sure have a lousy vocabulary, considering you've been with me all my life."
"Grrrr! Arrggghh! Fuck! Fuckityfuckityfuckity...."
"OK. Never mind. Something else...I'm too old to be hanging out with twenty-somethings. I know that I'm accepted, and maybe they even like me, but I need people closer to my own age, besides the guys I work with."
"Exactly. Why can't I grow up a bit more? Get away from this virtual 'lifestyle' and meet more people in the real world?"
"Arrrghhh! Asshole! Grrrr!"
"Wow. A new word. And you've made a point. A very sharp point, thank you very much. I suppose I am an asshole. What have I done? What have I accomplished? I can almost sing, I can almost write, shit, I can almost do anything. But I don't do any of it well, 'cause I've never put the effort into any of it."
"Yeah, I have only me to blame. Heh. I almost said myself..."
"I said almost, 'k? Look, I won't bother you with any more right now. There are other things I want to talk about, but we can do it later."
"Yeah, whatever. Later, Self."
"Pleasant dreams, you fucking silly twit."
"What? What did you just say? Self?"
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