They told me to. I don’t know, I didn’t really want to do it. Sometimes I have these other thoughts, ones that aren’t mine, telling me what to do. I mean they sound like me and I know they’re just in my head, but that’s worse I think. They turn up without warning and say things I don’t agree with, hounding me with torturously precise intimacy, and I know they have to be just as real as I am because my voice is in here too. If they don’t exist, how can I think therefore I am? Who’s left?