Allow me to stand on my soapbox before kicking it over and throwing it into a volcano. But how could I have ever known this? This feeling that is so far out of touch but always intimately within reach. That I was multiple. That I was fucked up beyond recognition. I always knew of the feeling, but never what the feeling was, what it meant. There was simply always a problem. As far back since I was a pup. Being inconsistent. Being distant. Wanting so much but knowing so little. The memories all reinforce it, all the memories forgotten about, repressed, dumped aside, because we couldnt come to a conclusion from them, now at the forefront, now that we know.
The horrifying truth is that we are capable of almost nothing. We are not particularly special or notable, we, like all humans, beings, dogs, cats, aliens, are just making the choices the past has destined us to make. Us sisters can do almost nothing. Nothing compared to the perception of a working individual exploited by capital. Even if you were to remove capital from the equation of expectations on our lives, we would still be delivering well below the bar. We are low energy and lethargic, we gloss over things as we switch constantly, we have very little time to influence the world in the way we wish to, or, for some of the poorer sisters, influence the world in a way thats better for someone who is in control more.
But now I echo that feeling, of a sister who is no longer in control as she once was, of the things I held close in my life growing ever further apart, the people I care about that my sisters do not, those people that cared about us but not all of us cared about them. They are mountains away now. And there is nothing I could do to change that. I would, if my brain decided I was more fit, more dominant, to be at the helm at all times like Rally seems to be. But even then, all those people are now irreversably hurt by us, left out in the cold, which is the fault of all of us, the fault of the ones like me who drive in the seat of emotion and long for love, long to be saved, to be a savior, and grow close to folks that the other ones of us cannot ever expected to be safe with. So much of that is my fault. Of not knowing my brain, of ignoring the signs. Your brain speaks to you in a language that you have to learn to decipher and understand, and we couldnt. We didnt know our own language. We didnt know how to read those signs, much less act on those warnings.
So I speak to you from a throne with broken hearts at its foot. A throne we built for ourselves in quiet unending horror as we saw what it began to shape into. Knowing the doom, knowing that it is fate, but being unable to act, to run, to fight. only to follow. Listen to yourself. Write your feelings on a wall, listen to the crazy people in your life. I think most people are far too scared to acknolwedge how deeply of a mess they are. Not that its even their fault, how do you even approach a topic as delicate as yourself, much less yourselves? Just whatever you do, dont run from it. I'll cry and beg at your feet and force you to accept what is truly you. It's better in the long run. My advice, from someone whose lost everything.