In the mind space, I find myself blinking at an unknowable entity. The god, I supposed, of the cultists who kidnapped me. Who was currently ranting at me about how weak I was, how lazy. Which honestly. Rude. But whatever.

"Dude. I'm not lazy, I just have adhd and executive dysfunction. I can't make myself start a task, the brain chemicals literally won't let me." I pause briefly, before grinning at him, sharp and vindictive. "I mean, you're more than welcome to try, but I've been fighting with it for literally my entire life, I doubt you're gonna do as well."

It takes him about an hour to give up on getting up, with his cultists frantically trying to figure out what's wrong. Another hour goes to trying to trying to convince me to tell him my secrets. But even I don't know how to make myself do things, so his relentless interrogation gets nowhere. Three hours in, my stomach gurgles loudly, and he gets the abrupt realization that my body is hungry. And I get the realization that it's been a while since I ate.

Eventually, he manages to get me sitting up, though it's reluctant, my body not really willing to get out of the comfortable bed the cultists had put me on after they'd brought their god into me. It's funny, though, watching the dawning horror on his face when he comes to terms with my utter lack of motivation. And all this while I don't have to deal with my meat suit. I don't have to feel the constant pain in my body, I don't have to struggle with deciding to get up to go to the bathroom, I don't have to push myself to eat. He does. And it's hilarious.

In the end, it only takes a full day for him to abandon my body. Long enough to understand how grueling my daily life is, even just staying home. And long enough that, when I return to the front of my mind, I've had a lovely break from being in charge.

"Hey, Mr. god man? You're welcome to do this again if you want, no complaints from me." Again the sharp grin, though this time visible on my body. And the plume of sentient smoke that is the god visibly shrinks away from me. With a laugh, I get up, easily pushing past my barriers of lethargy and 'laziness', and stretching. Sore muscles, weak joints, unexplainable pain, and all.

After all, if nothing else, my own bed was beckoning, and that was good enough motivation to get me going home. Honestly, he called himself a god when he couldn't even get past a mental disability. What a weak god.