Win some, lose some, Champ

The sigil binding you to this plane  

A series of switches throughout your arena which cause something heavy to fall on you when activated in the correct sequence  

A grotesquely exposed beating heart  

Your own special attack reflected back at you, possibly following a variable number of return volleys  

Sunlight from a conveniently located window  

A mask-like, androgynous human face whose jaw unhinges like a snake’s to shoot a giant laser  

The melody of a childhood lullaby  

An annoyingly evasive drone or companion creature which houses the true source of your immortality  

Your comically tiny head

“She’s saying to her executive dysfunction, ‘okay, I’m creating a crisis, now you respond.’ Executive dysfunction has done a good job here of making getting up to eat impossible, but now she has to, fast, in order to avoid tummy trouble.”

“And now executive dysfunction is actually the one on the back foot, because she has the upper hand in time pressure situations.”