Different kind of content to usual, but I felt like sharing.
I find, within my own system, that there is a need to be known. My headmates will never have a body of their own to express who they are, forever trapped within the lense of this one. Who they are is contained in words and gesture. The only reason anyone could know them at all is if I tell those on the outside.
Chip has worn the same leather boots since he was sixteen. Roy’s freckles look almost more like faded paint splatters on his cheeks. Dixie loves to play fight with me because she knows she doesn’t have to hold back. Bucky comes to lay beside me on nights the paranoia won’t leave me alone. Peaches tasted sweeter to Sun than they do for me. Kon remembers caring for a mule on Ma and Pa’s farm. Tim miraculously grew fae features one day. Marion daydreams about running his thumbs over Wally’s cheeks.
There’s all these little things that make them them that no one else would ever know unless I said something.
There is one person I feel this way about who does not live in my head. She never really lived at all, but I see her so clearly in my memories, which likely differ so much from the stories people have read about me that they can’t know her like I do. Her name was Catherine Todd and she was my mother.
She was an amazing woman who did her best to protect us even as our home was crumbling around us. She kept things as cheerful as she could, always tried to make me feel safe, even when she was under influence. She had the saddest eyes I think I’ve ever seen, tired and worn down as she was, but she loved me and she never let me forget it.
This is the woman who used to crawl under the bed with me on bad nights and lay there beside me until I felt safe enough to fall asleep.
The fact I remember her face at all is a surprise to me, considering my father’s is a featureless blur.
I don’t want to forget her. I’m glad I remember her clearer now. I hate that my clearest memory of her is when she stopped moving.