Who Are We Here?

Parallels

The cause and effect of a mental disorder taking its toll and control over me when I was sixteen-years-old. This is a short story of a conversation had about what I was dealing with at the time and sometimes still need to face, even to this day. This is a true story.

~

"So to continue from where we left off last time, how would you describe him?"

I stood silently for a brief moment, pondering over the question. It was a tough question. I haven't known him my whole life, but it feels like I have. I always think of him, dream of him, wonder what he's thinking about; if it's of me, or something else; anything really. I always wonder. I looked up and inhaled deeply, trying to relax my tense muscles and replied asking,

"Where should I start? — I feel like I should begin where most of this began; with me being alone. It was I and my thoughts, and nothing else. I sat alone in the center of my bedroom, wishing to speak with someone. To this day, I have no clue if I just enjoyed the sound of my own voice or if it was that I was merely that desperate for a friend, and one to always be with. I now choose the latter simply because of the circumstances that came of this behaviour from when I was younger. I never liked being alone, so I began talking to myself. I made up figments of people that I'd seen from television, continue conversations left unfinished from shows and movies, and gave them all their own identities. Eventually, as time grew on and I grew up, they slowly vanished out of my existence, that is all, but one who stayed behind. An unidentified mass; something I couldn't explain, but for some reason or another felt safer around. It was the one who was always there for me, whenever I had a nightmare and couldn't run to family or needed a shoulder to cry on and I was home alone; they were there, and refused to leave my side. Years went by and the longer time grew on, the more distinct and verified this mass came to be. They began to look like me, as if I was looking into a mirror every single day. Some days were good, others not so much, but nevertheless, it was always there, through the good and the bad. They grew a consciousness, an identity, their own self worth; even a gender. Despite it looking like me for so long, it grew and changed, oppositely from how I did. Becoming more aggressive, assertive, dominant and uncaring; it became a man, something I wasn't; something I was envious of at times throughout my life. Not going into too many details about it, but I did and still will always see the none-existent equality between men and women; despite the strides that women have made to become more equal. It was never fair. Life was never fair, and with the controversy there, I was always a victim. Yet, despite that as well, me being a woman and this thing being a man, we're still so alike in so many ways; maybe because it is still a part of me, but it feels like someone else entirely. We still have all the similar interests, beliefs, likes and dislikes, and even partial plans for our futures, but there is still always the differences that add up; the differences that make them who they are, and make me who I am. I've always seen my entire life and world from a third-person perspective, but with this, with 'him', it's as if he now lives inside of me, inside my head, and will only come out if he so feels it's absolutely necessary; through my eyes, and no longer at my side.

The way he makes me feel when he comes forth is indescribable, to say the least, but I'll still do my best anyways. My body feels completely drained, and that's only in the brief moments that I'll let him make a decision for me or allow an idea from him so to speak. It's the same sensation I get when depression hits me, but that's not to say he's depressing; he just drains me as if I were suffering from it at that very moment. I've only ever truly let him out once, and the night that I did was certainly a long and frankly stressful night in of itself. I'll go into details in a bit, but for now, I'll continue with what it feels like to go through this every day; the struggle.