Friday, April 22, 2011

Our Ears May Be Burning

The hardest part about this holiday for us, this year, is knowing that, somewhere, someone is likely speaking ill of us. It's likely someone speaks ill of us at some point anyway; however, those people have never known us, or any part of us - and therefore we could care less.

Why do we say this? That people may be mentioning us this weekend?

The Other Girl had many friends, she had a best friend (TNB). Her best friend had made her part of her family, being as she/we have none that are near us; and that family enjoyed The Other Girl. If The Other Girl was around right now she would have been celebrating this weekend with her surrogate family, eating wonderful food and having laughs all while drinking to excess, and engaging in whatever activities she could to keep us quite, and secret. It had gotten to the point where she couldn’t handle us, and at Christmas we slept on TNB parent’s sofa, we made her sleep because we had not been enjoying ourselves that afternoon, and she gave in, trying to help herself cope with the fact that she could not use excessive marijuana that day to suffocate us; like she had done for over a year.

The Other Girl is gone, something we feel we have to keep repeating, because we keep having people from our distant past, and others who read this, ask about her. She is gone; we eliminated her from the We that is Us. 

We didn’t see that there was a way to explain to the people in her life what had always been, and what she was facing; there was too much history, too much to explain, so we forced her to cut people out…again... like we have so many times in her life - before we finally rid ourself of her.

It may seem cruel to have cut people out of her life that cared for her, but think of the first time you read our words; maybe this is the first time. Think of the look that may have been on your face, or may be on your face when we tell you we have Dissociative Identity Disorder – Multiple Personality Disorder; and imagine that you have known us for upwards of three years, taken vacations with us, spent weekends at the lake together....spent at least one evening together every weekend for over three years. Think of the confusion, perhaps the anger – the first thing that would come to your mind if your best friend told you these things – told you all the things that are written within the digital pages of this blog. 

Now imagine you are us, on the other side of all that.

So this weekend we can only assume that somewhere, in the house of TNB’s parents, someone who used to care about her is saying “What ever happened to [The Other Girl]?” Depending on what TNB has stumbled upon, because this blog address, by now, has been circulated among some of those from her past, as illustrated by the following comments in this entry: ...who is to say what is being said, what further claims are being made by people who never really knew her, and never knew us at all, who have only seen glimmers of us, and thought it was her. The judgement, the criticism, the fear, the word "crazy" hanging heavy in the air. All possibilities.

So, we will sit here…sipping our scotch, thinking of the things that we have done to make people in her life, people who think we are her, hate us. Hate us without knowing us, because We…because I, Frank…was tired of coming to the Other Girls rescue, and we all wanted to have a life without hiding.

We wish you a happy Good Friday. May it be as good as it can be.

To read why don't celebrate this holiday: 
Religion, You Say? We Have a View On That
Or more of our writing

Dissociative Identity Disorder/Multiple Personality Disorder
A Note From Frank, and ONLY Frank (actually not written by Frank)





Evil of Three: A Painting

No comments:

Post a Comment