The Thing in my Head


You know that panicky feeling you get when you try to uninstall a particularly, scarily obnoxious package of software and it just won’t uninstall? Well, I was getting that precise feeling and it had nothing to do with computers or viral malware. Something had got into my head and I couldn’t get it out…


Whatever it was, it was a bad old thing. A bad old, rotten old thing. A real stinker. An awful thing altogether. Something from out of a bad dream.


Now that it’s in my head everything’s changed, I don’t feel like myself. I don’t know what I feel like, to be honest. It’s kind of hard to say what’s different because I’ve lost the ability to know how things should be. I know something’s not right though. It’s like all the lightness has gone out of me and nothing’s left but some poor old dull caricature of a person, a lumbering old thing that labours painfully away every day trying to pass itself off as a human being. It’s an uphill struggle, and I’ve a feeling when I finally do get to the top of the hill there’s going to be an unpleasant surprise waiting for me there. Something I’d rather not know about…


There’s nothing left in me any more, just a heavy blankness, and the occasional suggestion of something moving or shifting position within me, something that is siphoning the life-energy out of me, draining it away for itself. Something immensely heavy and immensely malignant. A heavy-duty psychic parasite.


I find myself fantasizing about the process by which it came to occupy me. I imagine it floating, drifting along, patiently waiting for its next host. And then finding me, and gleefully installing itself. I find myself fantasizing in this way, running this imaginary scenario in my head like some kind of movie, trying perhaps to explain in this way what has happened to me, but then moments afterwards I start to wonder if it is the implant that is making me think like this, causing me to run this curious fantasy. Of how this thing was floating around until it encountered me, and then got into my head.


So you can see what sort of a way it has me. I can’t trust anything any more because I know its there inside of me, hijacking my mental processes in some kind of a subtle way to suit itself. I mean, I feel like it’s me, doing this or doing that, but I just can’t be sure. I can’t be sure whose idea it was. I’m even starting to get the idea right now that the implant is making me write all this, that the thing in my head is writing this, not me. Which is more than just a little bit weird.


Or maybe I am writing it after all, but the thing in my head is making me doubt that I am writing it, as part of its strategy. That’s even cleverer, because when I think something I straightway think it’s the implant in my head thinking it rather than me and that jinxes me, but really it’s when I think that what I was previously thinking is the implant thinking rather than me that is the implant thinking. So it’s hoodwinked me.


But then if I can see that then I’ve outsmarted it! Unless of course that’s what it wants me to think…





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