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Colorful and hopefully optimistic but maybe hateful occasionally

I wish my memory wasn’t so clear. I wish the brain injuries would have helped me forget. I feel like I can’t age. I feel like a fungus and have weird thoughts about having to hide my DNA from doctors who want it. It’s crazy and distressing.

I remember kindergarten like it was yesterday. I remember Ms. M didn’t like me because my father was an atheist. I didn’t get candy even if I napped at nap time. I had to sit away from the other kids. But I had two friends anyway. Angel and Nicki.

I didn’t like Angel because she had bad breath, but I was always there for her. She was made fun of when she cried every day, but not as bad as Zachary would. Everyone called Zachary a cry baby. And Jessie. Both boys had scary fathers everyone avoided. Horrible men who did bad things in my town. Arrested.

I gave Jessie my favorite doll when his house burned down. It was my size and I still miss it. I’ve been tempted to message on Facebook and ask if by chance they still have it.

Zachary had to become his own mom.

Angel’s dad told her she couldn’t do anything. She was useless. She said her other name was Useless. She started every day at the locker saying all the reasons she was useless.

One day I turned around angrily and snapped, “That’s not true. You can color in the lines in a coloring book.” I was really impressed with people who could color strictly in the lines.

Every day after that, she said, “I’m not useless. I can do one thing.”

I want to see how she’s doing. I want to give her back her Pichu I’ve been saving so we can play another game of Pokémon House.

Nicki walked on her toes like I did. She had black hair that was curly like my dad’s. My dad used to look young and like a human. He looks broken now and I worry about him, but inside I’m mean too. I have psychotic thoughts about being important.

I went to Nicki’s house to spend the night after her mom died. We were five. She wasn’t okay but she didn’t understand that and I didn’t want to tell her.

Her dad went out for a second. Said he’d be right back. Next instant, Nicki RAN to the door. Locked it. Asked me to help her move a desk to the door.

I was confused.

Then her dad started pounding on the door. He was yelling, “It’s me, it’s me.”

There was talk of a sword in the kitchen. I was hungry.

Then somehow he got in and he gave her a look and then me. They lived in a trailer. He had a room but Nicki didn’t. So he went to his room. Nicki fell asleep in the front room. I did eventually. It was hard because I wasn’t given a blanket or a pillow.

I didn’t ever go over again. I was confused. I knew her grandmother was taking her in. Her house was big. I’d seen it.

I never saw her after first grade. I want to play again. I miss her so much. I’ve tried looking for her but I can’t find her. I hope she’s still alive.

Shay overdosed on drugs an adult in the park gave her. She had purple eyes and a beautiful smile.

I started avoiding Nicki in first grade because kids were avoiding me and saying I was weird. But then she came up to me and asked me if I was avoiding her because she was weird. I said no. I loved her and didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I wish I had said something better. But I was five, I didn’t understand fully. Some adults don’t.

Then I started befriending males but they’d start claiming I had crushes on them and literally run away. Even after I got them gifts.

I stole a reptile Christmas ornament for Josh. He broke it. He’s in the marines now. Abroad. He got weird in high school, but who doesn’t?

I remember other details. It’s like it just happened yesterday and this morning. I told the teacher my favorite food was cheesy corn. She had asked me what my favorite food was and I thought she was he genuinely asking so I started giving a big list. I love food. My favoritest was beenie weenies, which I’d ask for on my birthday. But I also loved cheesy corn and gave that example first. She didn’t want to hear me talk and asked me for the recipe. Made a cookbook. My mom said, “I didn’t know your favorite food was cheesy corn.” I went with it. Still am going with it.

Luckily it’s delicious, and my brain sort of just accepts whatever everyone else thinks. Even for music preferences sometimes. I have identify confusions. Sprinkle Parmesan on fresh corn and we are good to go.
 
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Moving is going weirdly smooth? Feeling optimistic again tho

My dog never likes it when I pack. She’s not been in the best mood, but she’s still full of kisses.

I’ve been trying to think of ways that I am different from what I was like when I was five, because for some odd reason I suddenly got incredibly confused. I know when I dissociate I tell people who ask that I’m eleven (thanks to friends relaying that horribly embarrassing information) and therefore have no earthly clue who anyone is or where I am. Not something I plan on addressing because that kind of dissociation is incredibly distressing. I’m just one person. A human person, part Neanderthal because my ancestors weren’t specist (though thanks, Neanderthal, for passing on your diabetes genes, but also thanks for the Russian-ability to stand out on -5C without feeing a thing).

Anyway, I wrote books as a child. But they were simpler and I used stencils to illustrate them. They were often about whatever stencils I had, like clowns or cats. So many cats, and farm animals. My mom went ALL out on the stencils for me, like she got me a file-cabinet set that was freakin’ sweet, I felt rich af.

Then I’d make poop jokes about cats cuz they were always doing that.

I also wrote songs, with choruses and bridges. I had a lot of free time. I also climbed the fence in the living room to mess with the TV I wasn’t allowed to touch. Good times, as long as my dad didn’t see me

Adult me is immediate like, “why the f*ck was there a f*cking fense in the living room? That’s kinda messed up”

So there’re some vague differences.

Also also, my talk with the senator worked out great, apparently. I wrote about it here last night but deleted it because it felt wrong to say. Especially the content. I don’t want to talk about currently administration or how I knew they were about to challenge the acts.

I live by coincidences. It’s like a sixth sense. My sister gets it too. Things like Nestle’s medications all running out at the same time right before a surgery that wasn’t scheduled with that in mind. And the move out and in day being right at that date, so she can just move in without all the stress. Stuff like that is satisfying. I’m sure y’all know at least a little what I’m talking about :P
 
I am here right now to complain a little about something that hopefully doesn't matter.

I am talking with a person who wants to date me, which is fantastic I suppose. But I keep getting terrified and it's a very confusing feeling. I'm noticing that it happens most when she gives me compliments. I immediately wonder if she's drawing on what I like about me, or if she's drawing on what I don't like about me, to get me to trust her more.

It was easier to handle when she was telling me I was pretty and that sort of thing. But today she told me two different things that elevated me and I was immediately uncomfortable and positive that I was in danger. What the had in common was that -- the compliments made me look better than I am. Saying that she liked that I could keep up with her when other people need things explained a bit more, and stuff like showing me some of her writing that she said only is shown to her friend, a professor.

I am assuming I'm being paranoid. Because so far with every woman who has wanted to date me, I have immediately found something in common with Brandi and immediately didn't let it work out. I have trouble saying no which doesn't help at all.

So hilariously enough one of my immediate reactions to things now is, "everyone looks like Brandi to you." Which is true, thanks to the facial blindness. Brandi liked to keep with the trends, so certain trends make me have to figure out if it's not her. I never want to finger someone against my will ever again, or end up with no freewill, or end up being inhuman before I even recognize what's going on.

But at the same time, I'm worried that, like my mom, I'll only be able to pick back people to date. So the fact that I like this person also must mean that they're catering to me on purpose. I thought that even before Brandi came along.

It's really confusing. :-/ I really can't tell who's grooming and who's not. I haven't told her I have PTSD either. I told her it was "like seizures," but she responded that she has epilepsy, so at least when/if I do mention it, we'll have a common ground for understanding each other
 

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