I had read this, commented on it, and forgotten about it. Forever In Hell jogged my memory, and it got me thinking…
I am, in fact, made up of three parts.
I have long felt this, even before reading Freudian psychology. So, I began to think about me, myself, and I.
The earliest version must be me, developed in childhood. “Me me me, gimme gimme gimme.” That’s me, plain and simple. [Me says he’s a Libtertarian, but he always votes Republican.]
Then came myself, sometime around the “age of reason,” when one begins to not only ask questions, but to seek more than the first answer given. For me, this was all the way back in high school (I can’t recall when because I was too high and drunk). This is the public persona the average person meeting me will be exposed to: a bumbling fool who thinks he can smile and joke his way out of any situation.
I will have nothing to do me. I cannot even be said to be a part of myself. I is an ideal. A single capital letter is used to denote I, looking like a pedestal on which a statue (perhaps of a god) is placed to be admired. I can only be expressed when myself successfully anticipates and executes the actions of I. I cannot be blamed for anything, for I cannot be said to do anything but provide advice prior to a decision and guilt after a poor choice.
Frankly, I could do without me, but I would not be surprised if myself takes pity on me. In all actuality, we’re all just too entertained by me to leave him behind.