Me vs. Me (ft. Me)

Ever feel like there are five different versions of you living in your head? This is a glimpse into the chaotic group chat that exists entirely inside my brain, where I play every role- Planner, overthinker, socially awkward greeter, dramatic poet, and the lazy one who just wants to nap.

Have you ever agreed to weekend plans way ahead of time, thinking, “Yeah, I’ll totally be in the mood for this”? And then the day arrives, and you’d rather fake your own death than go? That’s me. Every. Single. Time.

It all started on a calm Sunday morning when the “planner” inside me decided we were going out at 5 PM. She was all bright-eyed and full of energy, saying, “This will be fun!” I, however, was not convinced. In fact, I already felt tired just hearing about it. But did I stop her? No. I let her take over,

As expected, 4:35 PM rolls around, and I’m pacing the room, feeling absolutely miserable. The planner is nowhere to be seen, and now I’m stuck with her decisions. That’s when the “lazy one” inside me speaks up. She’s always blunt and dramatic, asking, “Why do we do this to ourselves?” She even suggests texting people that we have a migraine. Or better telling them we’re dead. “No one questions death,” she says, and honestly, she has a point.

Meanwhile, the “socially awkward one” is practicing how to say hi in the mirror. Her first attempt? Loud. Way too loud. It wasn’t a greeting; it was like she was announcing the return of a king from war. Even her own reflection looked terrified. So, she clears her throat and tries again softer this time. But then her eyes open wide like she just heard a ghost whisper “You’d taste good with ketchup” at 2 AM.(A beautiful, dorky line by yours truly! ) It’s unexplainable. Her hands start acting weird too. She doesn’t know where to put them, so they just hang there awkwardly.

She gives it one last shot: a little finger snap, a head tilt, and a shaky “Hiyaaa.” It sounds so emotional  that it reminds me of Neha Kakkar sobbing on Indian Idol after a contestant shares a sad story. And just when you think it couldn’t get more dramatic, the “interpreter” version of me shows up. She stares out the window, watching the rain, and says, “It’s not just rain. It’s a metaphor. The sky… it’s finally letting go.” At this point, the lazy one rolls her eyes and mutters, “Girl, it’s literally just drizzling.”

Then comes the real glitch. Socially awkward me walks into the room like someone just told her that her crush is standing behind her. Her eyes go wide, she blinks rapidly, throws on a weird smile that shows too much gum, and gives the slowest, most uncomfortable thumbs-up you’ve ever seen. She holds it way too long, smiling and blinking like she’s buffering in real life. The lazy one leans in and whispers, “Bro… is she glitching again?” And honestly? Yeah. She is. Her soul left the chat a while ago.

So here I am just trying to get ready to meet people while battling five different versions of myself. It’s exhausting, confusing, and lowkey hilarious. But I’ve come to accept it. Maybe we all have our own little group of personalities trying to take control. And if you do too just know you’re not alone.

Until next time, this is Ramya Ch signing off.