So I talk to made-up people...

> So, why are you here?

~ Where would that be?

> Here, in my mind?

~ Isn’t that where I always meet you?

> Yes, but why now? What do you want?

~ Why do you think there’s something I want?

> Because otherwise, your presence would be utterly pointless, and I know you hate pointless behaviour.

~ And how would you know that?

> I created you.

~ Fair enough.

>So, what do you want?

~ Why is that…scratch that – I’d like to know why you don’t bother with me much. I know you think about my life a lot, and you like Veniera. Why the hell do you not write what you think?

> What does that matter?

~ You forget it later.

> Sorry.

~Just write it down. Doesn’t necessarily have to be that fancy notebook of yours.

> I know, but randomly scattered pages annoy me.

~ You’re a freak.

> That, coming from a guy with blue hair and glittering ears?

~ And who thought up this blue-haired, glitter-ears guy?

> Touché.

~ ………………why is the weird dude going on and on about a bundle of his, and some Purkinje fibres?

> Because we’re supposed to know about them.

~ You mean, you’re supposed to know about them?

> Yeah.

~ Is it important?

> The professor wouldn’t be wasting his breath if it wasn’t.

~ Your world sucks.

> That’s why I have you, amongst other people.

~ I feel sorry for you.

> No, you don’t.

~ True, but still, just being polite.

> Briz, get lost.

~ Where?

> Think of somewhere. You’re smart.

~ And why should I get lost?

> Because I feel like an idiot, sitting in the Physiology Tutorial Lecture, literally surrounded by my friends, yet “talking” to you.

~ That doesn’t sound so bad.

> I’m going to do something really mean to you.

~ Like what? You’ve already given me a childhood…

> What did you say?

~ I was talking about my sad, torture of a childhood. Then you made my girlfriend out to be a bitch. What else can you possibly do to me?

> I could make you ugly.

~ No! You wouldn’t!

> Try me.

~ Meanie!

> Then stop distracting me.

~ Fine. You’re no fun.

> See if I care.