I had no memory of my life before. How is this possible? This is my question now and forever. Then, a family tragedy triggered a devastating psychological change.
This is what I have been told. Suddenly I was aware of other identities inside myself? How could this be? The barriers between them were crumbling.
I feel like I am inside a spider web or at least near one of them. Everything around me, around WE is so magnificent.
The red of the autumn leaves is intense and the raindrops on it make it even more perfect in all OUR imperfection.
Never random. Never random. Never random.
Never random. Never random. Never random.
Never random. Never random. Never random.
In the thick of the confusing mingling of different voices in one consciousness came memories of different moments. One of them was an accident, it happened at age three. I lost everything, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t move.
This is me breaking the chains, breaking the mirror. This is me breaking the chains, breaking the mirror. This is me breaking the chains, breaking the mirror. This is me breaking the chains, breaking the mirror. This is me breaking the chains, breaking the mirror.
I refer to my self as “We”. We, are nine in total each uncharged of a different experience and time. Each of them stems from a particular event in my first life.
Here are my constant thoughts for today, from yesterday and maybe from tomorrow.
I wonder. Who are you? Is the question bouncing around my head.
I don’t really know. Who are you? Is the question bouncing around my head.
I don’t really know it changes colors and shapes every day.
Who are you? Is the question bouncing around my head.
I don’t really know, I only died last night.
For me, the abrupt awareness of her many different identities is overwhelming. I know now that if you’re in a totally impossible situation, you dissociate to stay alive. Trauma can freeze you in time.
My three-year-old self is easily scared by things that remind her of past traumas. On the other hand, the 16-year-old can be flirty.
I behave differently depending on ‘who’ is to the fore in her mind. She is not acting like her three-year-old self, or even remembering what it was like to be three.
She is that three-year-old – until another identity comes to the fore. Does this make sense? It makes perfect sense to me.
This is me breaking the chains, breaking the mirror. This is me breaking the chains, breaking the mirror. This is me breaking the chains, breaking the mirror. This is me breaking the chains, breaking the mirror.
In the morning, after taking a shower I look at the mirror. What a mistake, why did I ever do that? Who would be starting back? There, a funny girl, blond brownish hair, a few freckles, glasses or contact lenses today, three years or sixteen, afraid or powerful what will it be?
My reflection stares back from the broken mirror as it is distorted. I stare and wonder where these false images come from. Have I lost myself in this broken mirror or am I seeing my true identity float.
Disillusioned with myself, finally seeing the truth that hides within shattered images of broken mirror. It has never been random, there is always a background as dark and endless as it may seem.Oh, crooked smiles endlessly reflecting back.
I left all the light behind me and then came alone to see me. It seems crazy for some right? At moments, exiled out of time, raining old faces and sad looks. I think we are looking for
the road of eternity that is between the uncertainty of tomorrow and the reflection of yesterday.
This is me breaking the chains, breaking the mirror. Mirror, mirror on the wall who is my true self, which one of all? Love of my life, whatever you do… just devour, destroy me softly. Through all the ups, all the downs, some can’t be found. This is life in the way that I wish to see it.
