“And Thy Punishment, Is Death!”

you literally have to unironically listen to some shit like party rock anthem so you don’t kill yourself

no sir, i’m not plural. sir, it is a mystical technique taught to me by my ancient forefathers to protect me against psychic invaders. my mind has been splintered and compartmentalized in order to confound the any and all supernatural perversion. any other suggested cause is purely hearsay. i must reiterate, sir, it is only by coincidence that one of my many facets seems to resemble this gentleman “David Strider” you seem utterly convinced I’m familiar with. Surely, it must be the will of some divine providence that smiles upon the both of us.

Sometimes a family is you, your failwife husband, his telepathic sister, your childhood friend who also ordered you executed day after day for like 600 years, also you but he's still 12, the adoptive mom of the other you, the other you's weird mentally ill uncle who babysits him, your and the other you's weird mentally ill dad, and the ominous entity that turned your parents crazy scrambling in the walls.