Amnesia Rant

If my memories could return to me in order, each one in their entirety, in color-coded binders, with a glossary…

Well…

I would really fucking appreciate it.

Because right now my brain is vomiting glitter-sludge, and I have no idea what the Actual Fuck I’m looking at. 

What.

Am.

I.

Supposed to do with this mess?

Yes, I am aware that it will fill itself in, but I don’t exactly know how to exist when my memory is so far past swiss cheese that it’s cobwebbed.

Who the fuck am I?

Who the actual, everliving fuck am I?

I am so tired of sitting in our headspace, waiting to be whole enough to exist.

I guess I could just front and make jokes silently to myself until I understand what they mean. That might work.

Also, I have graduated from a wisp of static to silvery puppet strings.

Just the strings, though.

So I kind of look like some sort of horror movie booby trap at this stage of subsystem integration. Which is an okay enough aesthetic, I suppose. Still not sure what I’m going to look like when we’re done, but puppet-something-or-other seems like a decent guess.

I am tired.

And confused.

And tired of being confused.

I don’t know what to DO when I am more holes than substance.

But I want to front.

Well, I guess it’s not like I have to do anything productive. I can fill our sketchbook. And…clean? Diana will be happy if that’s where our system is going with me. We haven’t had an frequently-fronting external caretaker since this latest self-awareness. And…uh…yeah…it is very evident. 

I guess when I think about it, most of my headmates accomplish fronting practice at our job. Retail and I do not get along, but cleaning might create a similar mental state that I can use?

Having just ONE task-type makes me feel like a fragment/robot, but having TWO makes me feel more like a person, I guess.

So I can work with that setup.

-Charles