hello ☆ our system's name is The (Sword in the) Scabbard System, but you can call us Voli collectively, he/they/any. we're an orbital median system that's still figuring things out! we've been treating this blog as a plural journal, where we store our system thoughts and miscellaneous musings! :] <3
minor preventable mistake alerrttttt bro made a mistake that he could have easily corrected should he have thought for like ONE SINGLE SECOND but didn't!! and the consequences aren't dire, but now he feels stupid because the mistake was entirely his fault!!! 🚨
minor preventable mistake alerrttttt bro made a mistake that he could have easily corrected should he have thought for like ONE SINGLE SECOND but didn't!! and the consequences aren't dire, but now he feels stupid because the mistake was entirely his fault!!! 🚨
well... we were supposed to go grocery shopping today. parents are instead going fishing. which is not... great seeing as there is very little to eat in the house at the moment. but also we're currently bleeding (period) so we aren't like, too upset about plans changing.
we made some pasta..! no proteins in it tho bc we're not allowed to use em :o
um! hm! it's probably emi and beli up right now :> we are actually a little bit nervous but that's okay!! we're trying to decide what to do while we eat our food :o we are not good decision makers!! ^^
i really am probably the system's best attempt at having a sysmate with executive functioning. finished our dailies and just cleaned up the side table.
there isn't much to eat, i think. parents aren't home tonight so just have to figure something out.
like, can't say i/we feel particularly good this morning.
feels like... being held underwater.
feel scared.
the will to live is... fine. the will to be pIural is rough.
wish we weren't we. wish it was one. would be easier if it was one. don't want to be pieces. don't want to be parts. don't want to be individuals. one. just one. solid.
swimming in the miasma of ourself. the primordial soup rots and ferments into a pale and acrid imitation of itself. you've outstayed your welcome here.
excitement fades to fear. apprehension, mockery. the doll, the mask, and now even less.
you aren't the ship of theseus, brother. it implies there's a form you can still cling to. there's no ship anymore. you're the wreckage washing up on the shoreline. you're debris, shrapnel, whatever can still keep us afloat. you're nothing but aftermath. and there's no fixing that.
well i didn't know we were doing poetry night this morning.
fuck off.
urgh. anxious.
you're realizing there's more fragments here that you can put a name to. you're realizing you don't particularly want to.
it doesn't feel good, to name them. you haven't been keeping up with logging them as much.
you don't want these pieces of yourself. they don't want to be pieces either.
but driftwood stays driftwood whether it's called so or not. if it sinks back into the sea, if it floats insistently at the surface, it's still there.
so whether or not you acknowledge it shouldn't matter.
you didn't sign up for half your life to be arguments localized to your own head.
yeah, this feels straight up bad for you.
It is.
there originally wasn't meant to be a difference, but now there is. the schisms are not meant to be there at all, but as they are, the gaps are small and easily crossed. to define us gives us shape and form, but our very nature is not meant to be so rigidly partioned.
but you'd like it, if it was. structure means control, means clean and neat and tidy and accounted for. means you can quantify and reason and feel complete. if you lack structure...
if you're going to be pIural, you might as well do it correctly at least.
but there isn't a correct way for this, we've been over this!
right. here are the facts of it:
you are more than one. look at us speaking, we're rarely in the stage of denial that disputes it anymore. there's more than one here, i'll be taking no further arguments, c'est la vie.
the "more than one" that you are is made up of fractional pieces (+.01, +.05, +.02, +.08, +.13, +.04) that are so small that they feel like they should be insignificant. the fact that they are not, and the fact that most pIurals are much more substantial gives you a sense of displacement. you are not and you feel like you should.
the fractional pieces naturally lack form-fitting boundaries, and moreover feel more comfortable with being blurred into a soup. the fact that you can merge so easily with yourself often makes pIurality feel excessive, even if it is true. you cannot define yourself without feeling uncomfortable. you cannot and you feel like you should.
you do not like being more than one. you do not like being fractional pieces. you wish, sometimes, you could define your pieces better. you wish, primarily, to not be pIural at all.
we knew all that already.
i know. i can't state facts we don't already know.
the facts are... good. to get out there.
it's good to know the problem isn't denial as much anymore.
the main issue has always been the ability to perform. we are non-functional.
we have our good days...
they are few and far between.
we do not like to be defined. we
some parts of us want us to be defined. to be logged and all our files filled out and documentation completed.
it's admittedly nice to look at...
and you doubt you have DID but you are very forgetful. there are memories you do not want to lose. even if you don't like the pieces of yourself, you want to remember if they existed once, even if only once.
more often, you find pieces of you are sinking. the wishing room finds new occupants. dormancy takes those who cannot float.
and more often, the fragments you're scrounging up these days to patch the hole the size of your entire self are not very good swimmers.
Many minorities fought whole decades for the right to vote, work, and be full citizens, only for these privileges to be overlooked among most Americans today.
makes us sound a little too self-righteous when we compare, mate
but we did fight for this. our rights to live and exist within this body. the original lavender 24, who came to terms with pIurality and being allowed to be multiple in the first place. then 🏵️ struggling to exist without subsuming everything. then us, first asking to exist as Voca, then eventually splitting off into our individual fragments. these all took fights, arguments, compromise.
in a way, i think we're still limiting ourselves because we feel as though we have to. we keep clinging to what we knew before.
sticking to a precedent even though we're allowed to make amendments anytime.
my darling, you know change is inevitable.
but you want to be normal. you are changing in a direction that feels euclidean in nature. you want to either be more pIural or be less pIural, not this fucked up secret third thing. the in-between state of a median feels like the all the drawbacks and none of the positives.
there are positives! you know you're pIural and you like it sometimes! you have lots of company and it's very easy to communicate :>
yeah, with each other. we consistently have more conversations with ourselves on a given day then we have with actual people. fat lot of good it does us if we can't do shit in real life where it matters...
just fuckin look at us, we've been writin this conversation for two hours and in the grand scheme of things it means basically fuckall. this? it ain't helpin us survive. it ain't helpin us do shit. it's all just us, stuck in our own head, not sayin' anythin that means shit to anyone!
well, well / look who's inside again / went out to look for a reason to hide again
it's all just a buncha nonsense in here. self-important, pretentious, overglorified train of thought. is this good for anyone? is this anything? there's things we could be doing instead, more important things, more productive things, and what are we doing instead?
...figuring ourselves out. and why is that such a waste of time?
because it's just... us. and who cares if we reach some higher understanding of ourself. if we define ourselves or not, if we feel enough or not, all these feelings about who we are and who we want to be, at the end of the day, it doesn't matter.
we don't matter?
...not really...
...
...
do you guys ever feel like you're just living the plot of a story. you're just a character and you go on a stupid character arc to learn some bullshit lesson and then you get hit on the head with a theme so obvious it's like, motherfucker who scripted this shit? this is some kid's show "elmo learns to share" type bullshit.
sigh. it's good. to figure ourselves out.
yes, we are put on this earth for such limited time. yes, there are a billion things to do, some more important than the others. it stands to reason that we should only be partaking in the ones that are big and meaningful and visible.
there is worth in self-disovery. there is no one else who can do this for us. there is worth in us. this matters and we matter, as much as we don't think so.
everything is something. feeling at home with ourselves is important. this vessel is how we interact with the world. it's okay to take time to understand it.
please take this to heart. i know it's hard.
...feels stupid.
pat pat <33
okay. how are we feeling.
better
still anxious but that's baseline for me.
tired.
snrk, back to sleep then?
mhm..
ok. love you.
love you!!
no more love yous we can't type all of them out 😭
only if you're a coward??
we have pre-established anxiety, im sure we can afford to be a little bit of a coward.
