Acrylic on Canvas Board
(c) Frank Ly
We almost started to cry when we realized we've only written brief stories that have gotten us to the age of 23, and there are 9 more years of stories to share, and other stories that we can share from Ours, and The Other Girls life, that would be more titillating to you; like our first girlfriend and how that went wrong; a spontaneous trip across statelines in the middle of the night to meet with a man we were infatuated with, a much older man we had taken to our senior prom, a friendship that ended up breaking our heart by his revelation of lies he had been telling us about himself; boys we lived with that turned out to be a bad idea. These are just dating and relationship stories of course. There are family stories, and stories about just us, too.
We look back on our life, and that of The Other Girl, sitting here at the desk, which is actually our tall dining room table, littered with paints, brushes, papers, additional art supplies, and odds and ends; we begin to realize how We, and The Other Girl, have been mistreated by not just family members, but by friends, lovers, boyfriends, and some girlfriends. Not that we haven't done some mistreating of our own. We are certainly human, and therefore fallible.
We've always been the caregiver, maybe it was because we had to play mom at such a young age. We are always the one to do the persuing, the one who tries to create opportunities if only to be seen with potential value. It's possible that in doing this we simply opened ourself up to people who prey on the weak, and those with a giving and loving nature; only to satisfy their own needs, rather than equating a balance or compromise. We are very open about our feelings when we have them, maybe we are too open and pushy with out affections. We doubt that, even though it gets us nowhere.
Somehow we never felt like we deserved it, because we have always had to fight so hard to grasp it, from parents, from friends, from everyone; and if we deserved it then wouldn't we get it? On the rare occasions where a man freely gave their love to us we destroyed it because we knew, and The Other Girl knew, that we had this secret, and if they were to find out then they wouldn't love us anymore. Better to cut the cord first and prevent more pain and rejection. Standby/The Villain was a good example of what happened when we tried to reveal our self, only to find out he liked having sex with me, but only loved The Other Girl and Bitch. I am too mean for his liking, which was fine because he was not my type. More about that another time.
We really don't know what love looks like, we've written that somewhere here before, stating that the only kind of love we understand and recognize is our love for others, and that for our self (though some days we struggle with that love), but since our love doesn't look like any we have seen, we really don't know how to recognize it, particularly romantic love.
We decided we would share this e-mail "interview". Why not? It's not like we keep anything about our self a secret anymore; besides our eyes, our birth name and place of residence - which are all irrelevant if you think about it. Plus we like being asked questions.
For more information please read the posts to the left in the 'OUR LIFE WITH DISSOCIATIVE IDENTITY DISORDER - OUR JOURNEY'