So I’ve mentioned a couple times that my mind has a flair for the dramatic, and how that seems to be one of the main sources of my literary prowess. It’s also what makes livestreaming a lot of fun for me whenever I can be bothered to do it. But where does this flare inside me come from? What is it?
I like to call it my “Inner Andy”. Andy is my younger brother by 5 years, and though we sprung from the same couple, his personality is the exact opposite of mine. While I was always content to quietly play with my toys and nap in complete tranquility as a tot, Andy would frequently escape from his crib, run off to say hi to strangers, cling to people’s legs, and pull items off the store shelves while riding in the shopping cart.
Andy's artistic rendition of Andy
A 99% accurate portrait of Andy
This Inner Andy I believe to be the primary source of emotion within me. My brother Andy knows this too, and most of his interactions with me seem designed to draw his inner self out of me. As a kid, he knew that I was just as capable of laughter and funny mouth noises as he was, and whenever we played together, he’d try to get me to transform. It was always hard work on his part, but he had the energy to pull it off, and sometimes he actually succeeded. Sometimes he managed to peel away my shell to expose my sweet, sugary chocolate interior, and once it was free, I gained roughly the same amount of regrets he had, to say the least.
Even today, I always feel my Inner Andy bubbling below my surface like magma. He’s often fun to let out, and he’s the reason I want to be a beloved entertainer, even though the idea of being a beloved entertainer scares me to death. All those eyes on me, watching me, judging me… they beg me to stay comfy in my peaceful existence. But then my Inner Andy whispers to me, suggesting that those eyeballs could be a lot of fun to poke out. He reminds me that I love to collect marbles, and the eyeballs of the judgmental merely exist for me to play around with, and they’d probably make cool hollow clicking noises too when gathered in a marble bag.
I usually don’t feel like it’s in my best interests to listen to him though, so he’s easy for me to control. No one else has to know he’s there in my core. But I actually like having him around all the same. He provides smiles and warmth for me, and I’d probably be a far more boring person without him.
My brother Andy is still the same after all these years. For one, he loves Youtube Poop and Time and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!, two things I will never touch as long as I walk the earth. Yet he’s also mellowed out and matured a LOT with age, as if his body finally became big enough to house his effervescent personality. I wonder if he’s developed an inner me, like I have an inner him?
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