Starve the Parasite

Metaphorical Narrative

Imagine something small and hungry living inside your house. It chews the wiring, poisons the water, shreds the furniture, and still tells you: “You need me. Without me, you won’t survive.”

That’s ego. Not a guide. Not a friend. A parasite. It infects every room it touches with panic rehearsals, false alarms, and fear-soaked warnings. It does not care about your peace, only about staying alive. Every second you listen, you feed it. Every moment you ignore it, it starves.

Core Insight

Ego disguises itself as a safety system — “I’m rehearsing so you’ll be ready” — but its actual function is self-preservation at your expense. It feeds on your energy, your attention, your identity.

Here’s how it wrecks your life if left unchallenged:

• Relationships: It whispers, “They’ll see you’re weak. Perform harder.” and ruins genuine connection.
• Work: It screams, “Not enough. Prepare more.” and turns effort into exhaustion.
• Self: It repeats, “You’re not safe unless I narrate.” and leaves you living second-hand.

The wake-up: ego’s havoc is not optional noise — it’s an infection. To live, you must see it for what it is and cut the oxygen line. Presence is not just peace; it’s survival.

Saturday Experiment

1. When ego starts its broadcast, don’t argue. Whisper: “Parasite.”
2. Physically turn your body or shift your gaze to something real in the room. Anchor in now.
3. Hold the stance: ego is not “you,” it’s a squatter. Its power ends the moment you stop feeding it with attention.

Sunday Reflection

Journal in third person:

• How does the character’s life look when ego is treated as a parasite, not a guide?
• What shifts when they stop feeding it oxygen and reclaim space for presence?
• What new energy becomes available once the parasite starves?