Auti-multiplicity

  I ACCEPT MYSELF So, ME VS the world. It’s time for acceptance. I tried to do their way; it didn’t work. It broke me. OK, I’m weird. I’m different. Nobody understands me. Nobody accepts me. I ACCEPT MYSELF! I consider myself to be a good person. Maybe not a nice person. I can be a little abrupt. But I am a good person. Everything I do with people is motivated by Love. I help, support, and give my heart, mind, body, and soul to see them thrive. I have never done anything out of spite. I sometimes planned to, and wanted to, but never actually went through with it. There is nothing wrong with me! I ACCEPT MYSELF! I LOVE MYSELF!

  Flashbacks Since the last support group meeting, we have been somewhat unsettled. The littles have been troubled by memories of feelings. Being locked away. Being hated. The unknown. Terror. Confusion. Darkness. There have been memories of sensations too. Being thrown. Being squashed. Difficulty breathing. Not being allowed to move. Fainting. Looking around confused, not knowing what had happened. A room. A chair. A child slowing crouching more and more as the hours go by until he falls to the ground. He opens his eyes, confused, uncertain why he is lying on the mat. Dry saliva streaking through the side of his face. How long had he been there? His pain is unknown to world. His tears make no sound. His deep desolate sighs are as silent as the sound of desperation. In space. Because everybody knows that in space no one can hear you scream! The littles have been remembering all of this. One flashback after another. Each the same. In that room. Alone. Unable to move. E

No Name Everyone before me loved our first name. “The man” used it to hurt us and make us feel we were not even worthy of our name. “Pft … Angel … fallen angel more like … “ Or “You are not an angel, you’re the devil!” And “Those people who named you must have been out of their mind … angel … you make me laugh!” Without forgetting: “You have the devil in you …” and “You are possessed by demons!” And that was probably the reason why the boys loved their name. It was the only good thing that the biological parent gave him. Angels are a symbol of strength, and purity; they’re messengers of Love and Justice. So, every one of the boys loved that name. Especially 5. He felt it represented well his identity. And that it did. 5 was pretty much an Angel. Loving, but also not afraid of hate. Ying and Yang. Two sides of the same coin. Darkness and Light in one single package. He was very apt at managing this inner conflict. Good, within reason. Bad, within reason. His e

My memories How do people remember? Does my memory work very differently from other people? It seems to be an issue with some. They don’t seem to value my memories the way I do. They find me vague. It seems to cause friction. How do people remember? I do not have memories of events. I do not remember that a certain day I did something specific, and then something else happened. I only have three memories that are contiguous and almost complete. The day I was given away. The day I was “taken in”. And the day I was locked away. Those are the only events that my mind was able to piece together from the myriad of fragments floating in the darkness that fills my consciousness. After this my boys made the conscious decision that they don’t want to assemble fragments and remember. Those are the only memories that contain the story, the dialogues, the sounds, the weather, the faces of the people, the environment, my feelings, their feelings, the jingle of the coins, the tones of the voices, th