Stuck

    I got a little stuck trying to please people. Now I'm caught in-between. Trying to please people who will never be happy. At times, I feel like I missed the bus on DID. I was supposed to change. Being me wasn't working. Instead, I stayed me. Maybe that's why people are bitter. They expected a metamorphosis. I felt like I owed some people. Like I couldn't leave them. I thought the middle was where I belonged. Now I'm stuck there. 

    When I got off Clozaril, I thought that I could change. Some people wanted to stop me from doing so. They're addicted to the mirage, to the perfect me they want to believe I am. And I'm letting them do it. It really isn't funny. Yet people find it amusing. Or infuriating. Depending. 

    They want me to be the crazy one, the addict. I'm addicted to trying to please the same people. I'm crazy enough to stick around Greenville. I cannot go back to the medication table. Yet the table will eternally call for me. I have to ignore its call. People have tried to help, but I have to stay the same. Because I'm the name. The one on the building. It makes no sense. 

    God is watching us. So what will I do? I am caught in-between. I am split. Split between my families. Duty, loyalty, Nazi lockstep vs the reality of human limitation.

Dear Elle

 Dear Elle,

    I'd like to think that there are people who know the real me in this world. I took a few falls. I need to move past the falls. 

    I remember what Leaves said. She said "all my best". Because she knew about me and Prichards. I know I'm doing the right thing to try to understand this. I know it's very important. There are people that would rather let sleeping dogs lie, to sweep the past under the rug. I can't do that. I have to understand. It is essential to my existence to understand this. I have no choice. I have to be sure. I have to know what it means. 

    I wish i could tell you everything in person. Maybe you'd believe me, maybe not. There are people that want to stop me. They want to bury this. They are addicted to the mirage. But I have to understand my body and the drugs and Prichards. For both my sake and the sake of anyone like me. The medical system doesn't want to know. Because of the money. But I need to.

Ashes

Just for the record...

    Looking up Elle was a mistake, but if you know anything about trauma, anything at all, then it's not actually surprising. I know she knows why I did it. I shouldn't even have to explain myself to people. A handful of text messages is not a big deal. I knew her a long time. I know Leaves and Molly know why. Anyways, that was a long time ago. She's out there, she's safe, that's what matters. And she knows how to find me. I gave her everything. Not exactly a criminal mastermind. Why do I feel afraid? I don't know, exactly. The world seems chaotic. But people have to help one another. I feel safer when the people who understand are nearby. She was one. She could read me. I think I was pretty good at reading her too.

For Nurses