had a dream abt Meeting Someone, like in the romo way, and having to explain all the weird brain stuff to her. Darby finds it unfortunate that the dream-person was just a borrowed face - someone we've seen around whose face wound up getting recycled in a dream. i find it unfortunate that sie's actually having dreams about romance. at least there was a tattoo idea at the very end of the dream, even if it was a really bad idea.

i swear, sie's itching to find a dating site and make an account. problems are, we're (1) underage, and (2) not mentally or emotionally ready for that shit, even if Darby is. sie'd be doing all kinds of shit in an independent body but sie's stuck with us and has to deal with it. and i mean, i kind of feel bad knowing the rest of us are dragging sem down, but i don't feel that bad. like im not gonna feel bad for fuckin existing, yknow? not that Darby wants any of us to feel bad anyway, just. yknow.

idk. whatever. it was a weird romo dream and the tattoo idea was like the war paint in Skyrim where it's a V on your face, with the point below your lips and the edges above your eyebrows and the rest running up and down your cheeks, like this photoshopped shit:



see, it looks like clown makeup and it's all over the face. bad bad idea. but it's pretty cool anyway...

I think I get it, sort of. for Twelve, life's a play and every scene is meticulously planned out. everything has to be just so, or its wrong. they live an overdramatized version of life and that's part of why they do the things they do. the rest is internalized ableism and insecurity and lacking trust.

another thing: my system role is basically that of head babysitter.

-Nix

 gotta love fckin abilify. went to sleep at like 7 maybe, woke up three hours later more rested than we've been in weeks. literally what the hell are these pills im so
-Nix

 i don't think we've got a readily accessible headspace. i think the one we do have cant be reached except by lucid dreams, and i think the closest we've got to a waking headspace is a couple of little rooms we all hang around in. One's the "Front" room, and that's just where we hang out normally. then there's a "Lockdown" room where everyone gets thrown if someone decides theyre gonna front alone for a while. Then there's the Back, and that's where we go otherwise, and that's not readily accessible. we just go away - probably to that goddamn headcity we can't see when we're awake.

for the millionth time: we've gotta start meditating again. this shit's not gonna come around on its own.

-Nix