What is the worst emotion that a person could possibly feel? No one asked me that question, actually, maybe someone did, but I never noticed. I remember the question coming to me one random day while I was listening to one of Bo Burnham's songs. Maybe it was fear. After all, there are many schizophrenics I've heard about whom ended up killing themselves over things they see in their everyday life. Then I thought about how those schizophrenics are made. Angry people. Their parents. Maybe it was anger, the most powerful emotion. It was the most obvious choice, as anger was the cause of most violently actions taken against others. Anger leads to wrath, which leads to the destruction of both one's self and one's friends and families. Then I thought what lead to anger, sadness, and fear. Sadness would come from fear of doing something that would get rid of one's sadness. It was a Catch-22. While fear connected all, anger created the fear, but fear creates more and more anger.

I guess the cycle of fear and anger would go all the way back in time to the first human in the bloodline feeling suddenly angry at his situation for no reason and spreading it down the time. My brain began to cease these thoughts, it was a good enough explanation for me, at least. Then a single thought pierced the cooling down process: What caused that one caveman or renaissance painter or medieval knight to suddenly get angry? Not only get angry for the moment but to spread that anger on like a disease. For some reason, I related to this anger disease to the Black Plague. Like someone who was angry enough could somehow create a disease that would create a debilitating disease like Schizophrenia.

Schizophrenia can't spread, you know that, right?

Neither can anger, anger only really "spreads" if the recipient of the anger accepts the anger itself.

I don't know why I did that, why I would just think to myself. Humans are social creatures, you can't be social thinking about stupid things like whether or not a person's angry thoughts about the world and other people could create the Black Plague.

I mean, why can't it? I asked myself, not aiming at anything in particular. Why can't anger create the Black Plague and Schizophrenia can spread like a disease, I mean, we don't even know that much about ourselves or the world we live in. I kept on shouting my challenges to my thoughts, not expecting anything to happen. To my surprise, my mind spoke back.

Because we know what caused the Black Plague and Schizophrenia, and we know that it can't be spread or created at will.

It was weird. I always semi-responded to myself whenever I thought, just so that I could have a counter-argument that I could counter and the cycle could just keep going until the day was over and I needed to sleep. I would usually do this while putting on some trash music that I don't even listen to. Maybe even some fan music for random video games that I play: Five Nights at Freddy's, Little Nightmares, Undertale, etc. I never listened to the lyrics, just the beat. I didn't know why, but it helped me think. A steady tempo.

Then, my thoughts asked me, why don't you listen to Mozart then? There isn't even any lyrics to ruin the voice in your head that says your thoughts to help you remember them.

I responded to myself with a voice that seemed similar, but I knew it was slightly different, my voice. Because I can't find the tempo of Mozart. The instrument players just know the tempo, they don't share it with others. If only they did.

So just add a drummer or a sound machine that plays a soft beat sound every few fractions of a second. My thought-voice challenged. Then you could listen to Mozart, an actual creative and original conductor instead of these bad artists.

It doesn't matter if their bad artists, just the sound of another person's voice helps me think.

Try ASMR, then, if you care so much about hearing people speak.

I don't want just the person speaking, that would be creepy. I responded to the voice in my head. There's a difference between a person speaking and a person singing, you know.

God, you're hard to please. That's a bad quality, you know.

How so?

People will only notice you if you do something to warrant their attention. Everyone else knows this, though. So just walling yourself off from others who are more talented than yourself is a bad idea.

I mean, I explained, I wouldn't call it walling myself off, it's just that I have high standards for friends.

Oh, my thought-voice continued as if he wanted to say this, that's why you "have no friends", then.

I don't really need friends, I'm more a loner type of person, that's why I think so much.

I'm joking. You have friends, you just don't want to admit it. Well, that's the natural edginess of a teenager, you just need to be alone so that people will pity you and dig out their eyes to attempt to not see the fact that you're faking it.

Wait, what? Why would anyone want to fake not having friends?

Why would people fake a mental illness? My thought-voice shot back, with a high-caliber rifle instead of my lonely starting pistol.

I don't know, for attention? I guessed. I felt like my thought-voice could draw on any piece of information it needed to counter my arguments, guess I'll just have to keep throwing points at it until it got bored to death.

Exactly. My thought-voice confused me, I didn't know whether or not it was on my side or not, like if you're trying to be funny with a person and they just stand there, not making any sign of emotion with their face. And those people are called malingerers, you'd probably know a lot about being a malingerer, don't you?

I couldn't imagine what my thought-voice was referring to.

Well, my thought-voice went on, almost to the point of ranting, those people are frowned upon in society, so I suggest you not try and be like them.

Why are you so mean, all of a sudden? This'll get it.

I'm not. I'm being honest.

It had me on every front, I felt like I couldn't talk to him. Was this what I was like to other people? Did I just pry with all my might to get into their personal life while making sure at all costs that they don't get into mine? It was like talking to a robot, it didn't talk to you, it just answered you.

Yes, you are. My thought-voice built a brick wall, containing my running thoughts. Maybe my thoughts were running away from it. However, I do believe that with my help that I can improve you, maybe even gain you a few friends.

You talk to me like I'm a different person. I thought for a second that maybe I did have a mental illness. I tried to keep that thought away from my thought-voice, though.

I am a different person than you. I am the person that you can strive to be. You are lazy and selfish and arrogant all at the same time, but with my help, you can improve and become like me. I am the left side of your brain. I am productivity and knowledge and learning. I know how to deal with situations better than anyone else, you simply, well, let's say that you "activated" me to help you in this situation.

So I basically called you down, like a fucking angel, to help me? The left side of my brain? This didn't sound like a sociopath or a robot, could this person actually help me?

Yes, but I do have rules. Following these rules will make you a better person. The first rule is, no cursing, no matter what. It's unprofessional and the only people who do it are people who don't have anything worth saying anyway.

That sounds like a movie quote. I responded

Because it is, that leads me to my second rule. You must be original. No one likes a copycat. No one even remembers those people that trace others art or murderers that copy other murderers. However, if you are original, even if no one sees your original work, you'll know that you actually made something instead of copying someone else.

I mean, I always try to be original, so I guess that's an easy rule to follow. Maybe I could work with this person.

Good. The third and the last rule for right now is you must always be productive. Sitting around sulking isn't going to fix anything. Even if you're just taking out the trash or cleaning the bathroom, doing something productive for others is always good.

Oh boy, I thought, that might be a little difficult.

It always is, but you can do it, I did it, after all. My thought-voice said.

I hesitated about my thought-voice's offer for a moment, maybe following a few set rules for my entire life wouldn't be the best idea.

You never know if it's a good idea unless you try it. My thought-voice called out to me.

So, can I, like, well, do you have a name? I didn't know why I was stumbling over my words, my brain would normally sort them into acceptable sentences, but instead they just instantly starting being said the moment they were thought into existence.

Red. The voice responded, quickly. Come on, now, get a notebook and a pencil, it's time to learn some cursive.