Stupid fiction

Dear ########, How are ya? I'm fine, I dunno why I'm fine. I want to be fine and dandy, but for somereason I can only think of the finite number of words that rightly express how fine I actually am. I could say that I'm sexy, that would be one way of describing myself as fine. I could also say that things are rough, as in the turbulent processes which dictate the direction that my life is going have, like sandpaper, worn away at my ability to handle stress, therefor, the level of my patience is also... fine.
 ###### there seems to be a constant line of thought that crosses my mind, well, minds, well, fuck it, Alters, fuck thatb ullshit we're not talking about DID or thei mplications thatm ight arrise from that, and even if we were, there's no chance in hell Im opening up that much on the level of psychological specificity of the consciousness's ability to splinter off little bits of itself and create tiny pockets of fuck this bullshit.
 I like waffles, I don't know why I like waffles, but the point being, I needed to change the topic of something a little lessdead ended, more to just change the subject about something rightfully frightening, the very concept and line of thought that our minds are not completely ours. I mean, yeah, there's the weird prospect of the voice in our minds being ours alone, but there's also the fact that blueberry waffles are somewhat of a mystery to me.
 I never really know why they'd be such a mystery to me. Sometimes I like raspberry waffles more than blueberry waffles, and other times the psychological differential in energy transfer needed for the average human brain to contain two consciousnesses within itself might be paramount to flipping a light switch. but that also raises the question of whether or not we are truly ourself or whether or not the distinction between blueberry and raspberry waffles is enough to REALLY decide on how that days, mornings rather, breakfast will turn out.
I don't know, sometimes I feel as if someone is rapidly flipping a light switch off and on to maintain a dual memory of the days events, but other times, I'm either off or on. It's a tricky subject to talk about, as talking of one thing would rather lead into talking of another. But talking about neither will inevitably lead to an interweaving open discussion about the two that might seem, at the best of times, rather confusing to the outside observer...
though there are never just two of anything. There's a thing called a Helper Personality, that keeps the Core and the Alter from tearing each other apart. But sometimes the feeling is that I might be easily persuaded or disuaded from picking between blueberry or raspberry. Is there really a difference in the taste, texture, and overall effect?
I can't really say... Nor would I rather want to say. I've worked on maintaining a decent balance, but I only see half the events of the day. Not to say I don't see the whole thing all the time, but rather it's like a flip book animation. The change happening too rapidly to notice, but at the same time, it's a dithering effect. Were I to choose raspberry over blueberry waffles, I would immediately try to back track on my decision, having a moment of anxiety that would be perplexing as it would be confusing.
There's be nothing to have anxiety over! I could just as easily order both the blueberry and the raspberry waffles without any doubt in my choice at all, but, considering the amount I might haveo n my person at the time, it would most likely be one or the other. And ths the dance begins yet again. The duality of our decisions, and the inability to satisfy both desires at one time.
 Light and dark, good and evil, left or right, forward or backward, raspberry or blue berry waffles... Why must life seem so tormenting at the thought that only one action may present itself? If only there were a way to enact all possible outcomes without sacrificing the attention to just one. It's really a shame the human perception can only, truthfully track one thing at a time....
But even if I order both at the same time, I would be faced with another incredible descision, which to place on top? Which to eat first? What order to eat each waffle? How can one thing triumph over the other and at the same time be as though that choice was forever abnormal in the timeline of our choices?
True, life gives you lemons, you make lemonade, but for the life of me, I can't actually understand that one concept. It's right there, in front of me, shouting, dressed brightly, and staring me right in the face, but for the life of me, I can't wrap my head around it... Strange, isn't it?
God damn it, now I want waffles.