Spring Cleaning My Head

“You know what?” I began, “I’m not actually all that surprised with the turnout on this.”

“What!” My inner Ego whipped around to glare at me, “But we worked so hard on this, the least our readers could do would be to give a few constructive reviews.”

“Well, no” I countered, “the least they could do would be to ignore us completely. And what do you mean we worked hard on this?” My eyebrow arched, “We didn’t really put that much effort into this. I mean, I barely remember writing this, but I’m pretty sure that we were half asleep for this. Hell, the only reason we published this was to put the damn account to use after nearly six months of having it.”

“But, but,” Ego stammered, “We worked hard on this! We put effort into it. I mean, that’s twenty minutes we’ll never get back! Twenty-five if you count the proofreading.”

I picked the dirt from under my nails, “I don’t actually,” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. “Besides, we both know neither of us actually wrote this, this was all Superego’s idea.”

Over in the corner of the room, a hazy purple hologram floated in the corner. Glancing up at the mention of his name, he rolled his eyes.

“Oh, sue me. I wanted to write something quick and sweet. So what if it’s been done to hell and back. Besides, you can’t really blame me either. Id stole my idea.” All three sets of eyes turned to the grey image sleeping in the middle of the floor, arms and legs pointing in the cardinal directions.

“When did he have time for that?” Ego muttered, “I’ve never really seen him do anything.”

“I think he was still asleep at the time,” Superego offered, “I mean, I’ve never seen him doing anything else, so I’m assuming that he was sleeping.”

“Why is the most productive part of me the part that always sleeps?” I groaned, “And why don’t we ever get off our ass to write something?”

“Hey,” Ego objected, “I’ll have you know I already wrote out a long and comprehensive explanation of Equestria’s magic system and history, which makes sense and fits within the boundaries of cannon.”

“And I,” Superego piped up, “have already laid out a list of ideas and themes to use for our stories.”

I rubbed the bridged of my nose, “But have any of you actually started writing out a story that we’ll stick with and finish?”

Ego and Superego glanced away. Ego coughed, “I’ve plotted out a few ideas for multiple genres.”

“But have you actually written anything?”

“Well, no.”

I turned to Superego, “And what about you? You write?”

Superego blinked, “Well, nothing substantial, but I do suppose I’ve written a little for this one idea I’ve had…”

I cut him off, “Fine, you can stay. You two though,” I pointed to Ego and Id, “can get the hell out of my mind. I’m done with you useless Freudian representations of being. I’m moving onto Jungian themed metaphors.”

“What! But, but,” Ego sputtered as a door which hadn’t been there earlier opened up behind him, “You can’t do this! How am I supposed to eat? And why does Superego get to stay?”

“You’re a metaphor, you don’t.” I rolled my eyes and the room tilted, sending Id sliding through the doorway. Ego grasped the frame to steady himself. “And Superego stays because he’s productive, and I need a preachy morality for storytelling.”

“Hah!” Superego laughed, stopped, and frowned. “Wait, what? Preachy?”

I glanced to the side, “Granted, he’s not the best, but better than nothing, I suppose.”

Superego scowled and Ego began to sweat as the room tilted to a full ninety degree angle, leaving the yellow apparition hanging over and inky void. “C-Can’t we talk this over?”

I turned to Superego, “Hey, you represent my empathy. Should I?”

The purple hologram tilted his head, “Nah, screw that guy. He hates my ships.” I nodded and snapped my fingers.

Ego didn’t have time to register the irony of the statement before a kitten the size of a truck devoured him from the other side of the doorway. The door slammed shut and faded before Superego turned to me, wide-eyed.

“…You have a really disturbing mind. You know that, right?”

“Of course you ask that,” I sighed, “Whatever, my Shadow should be here to replace those guys in a few hours.” I scrunched my nose in distaste, “And do you seriously ship ponies?”

Superego flinched as if struck, “What? No way, man. That’s just creepy. I ship human entertainment.”

I clucked my tongue in disapproval, “Whatever. So you said something about an idea you were writing for?”

Superego perked up, “Yeah, so my idea is basically…”