Stupid think I wrote about having DID

the first thing you need to realize is that You are Not A Person. you may have your own name, your own memories and something close to an identity, but you are Not A Person. people will look at you and they will only ever see the person you replaced. you Killed Him and now you wear his skin as a suit because it is the only one you have. his skin is ill fitting. it sags in the wrong places and squeezes too tight all of the others. you can tell your friends your name and bring them the news of your predecessors death, and maybe they’ll even try to listen, but they won’t, can’t, understand. you will have to live his life, you will have to look at his face in the mirror, you will have to live your life doing a poor facsimile of his mannerisms. people who aren’t your parents will talk to you about his life and you will have to understand lest they Find You Out. the people who are not your parents are the reason that you are stuck in your body that isn’t yours. they made a boy and they broke him before he had the chance to Be. be anything. he never got to be his own person either, but he got closer than you could ever dream of. you look at all of these people that are Whole, are Real, are Themselves. they have their own lives, their own dreams, their own aspirations. they do not have to wear someone else’s skin. their skin may fit wrong but it is still there’s. you will never be you. you aren’t a you. to be a ‘you’ would require something you can never have. you don’t even know what that thing is. you can sit there for hours and think of what that thing is and the closest word you can find is ‘identity’, but you Have an identity. you are you and you aren’t Not you. it doesn’t matter anyway. you will staple the ill fitting skin back on and practice his motions in the mirror because you have no other choice.