Operating

Coffee at nights normally leads to anxiety attacks, which in turn become panic attacks. It's almost like sex, how the tension builds up, then it peaks into panic, horror, the certainty that I'm going to die. Then it dissipates slowly and I feel exhausted, but I kind of want more.
Some other times, though, coffee at nights leads to introspection.
Fuck, my spelling sucks and nobody tells me anything! I know English is not my first language, but it’s not a valid excuse. I need to do it perfectly.
I was watching The Simpsons earlier today, that episode in which Lisa meets this kid who’s better than her at everything she loves, and I swear I saw myself in Lisa. I’m obsessive-compulsive, and I know my own capacities and limitations. This is an endless source of frustration, because lately, I haven’t been living up to my potential. I’ve let external factors affect me to a point in which fear of failure has me stuck to my bed.

I’ll make this clear: competition is something I won’t tolerate. If there’s the slightest hint of threat, I’ll kill myself to prove that I am the best, because that is what I aim for. I can’t be second best. And I know it’s fucked up, but that’s how I am. Then place Red into the equation, sit back and enjoy the fireworks.

“I’m not jealous, I’m merely territorial”

And Red just asked me what’s happening to me. The Fae she moved in with was not this beaten, frightened girl. The Fae she chose as a host was strong, outspoken, active…
Where is Fae, and what has this carcass of a girl done with her?
Well…apparently, we just found her. She was buried under a huge bundle of fear, hiding in dreams and ideas that she’d never make come true, because dreams can’t fail.
Well, time to wake up, princess. Life won’t find you here, go and show the bitch what you’re made of. Life’s a rollercoaster, and I want to see you screaming through that ride.
Tomorrow, we go back to red.

And we ain't no goddamn princess. We deserve to be Queen.I want to be Ramona Flowers.

Supergirl and the Invisible Girl

I love her, don't get me wrong. My Superboy. Supergirl. Whatever.

But there's times when you can't help to wonder if you'd have what you have if it wasn't for her. What would I be if she wasn't here? Just another weirdo, another freaky kid, with a lot of talent, maybe, and a lot of charm. But who would notice me if Supergirl wasn't here? How many of the things we've achieved are really mine? Who's living this life? Who do the people who say they love us really love?
I'd make way for her if she wanted me to. We've talked about this, I could leave and let her take over. Who would notice? Who would miss me? But if she left.... if she left, my world would shatter. I'd lose everything.
We share. We share everything, and I mean EVERYTHING. But I do wonder...who shares with who? Who has what? What would be of us if we didn't have each other?

Who's Supergirl and who's Invisible Girl?

...I need to talk to her right now.

On The Princess

The Lady Door.
Such a fitting pen name for someone who has spent her life, conscious or not, opening portals to other realities. What can be imagined, can be done. Everything exists the moment you focus your attention on it, the question is: does it exist because you notice it, or do you notice it because it exists? What is imagination but a portal?

When I was little, I sensed them there. And I payed attention, it was a great way of never being alone; even if other kids wouldn't talk to me or play with me, I always had someone to be with. They would be my toys, because I neded them to have a body. That's how I could rationalize it back then. But never did I use the word "imaginary", because "imaginary" is a pretty word they use to cover a harsh meaning: unreal.

Imagination has always been my weapon of choice: nothing has been impossible for me because I haven't yet found anything I can't imagine. And minds are powerful things. They design, create, destory and reshape everythinginto what we want it to be, and that's what we spend most of our lives doing. Few people take the time to use one of the most intersting powers our mind has: the power of connecting.

Why people are what they are has always intrigued me. If feelings shape people or people shape their feelings, we may never know, but we know feelings are important. Feleings change perceptions, shape ideas, and inspire us to take action. Feelings can't be controlled, but they can be mastered just as they can master us. To truly know how someone else feels is to understand them in one of the deepest levels. It means putting away your OWN perceptions and become someone else for a moment, an extension of the person you are trying to understand.
This is the key to "hosting". Being able to step aside, emotionally and spiritually, for someone else to fill the blanks you leave. If you can manage it and not go mental, you're safe. Sad thing is not many can.

Not many people master this ability to connect,though many can use it. When it comes to clinical terms for it, there are many: schyzophrenia, Multiple Personality Disorder... easy-fix conditions, just med them and lock them away. We need someone to teach us how to control it, to truly master it. If we were given this ability, there must be some way for us to use it to help.

A total of 235 different people have come, been and gone with me, which caused a breakdown when I was around 15. After that, I decided to completely block myself to them, until Di and Red came along, shattered my pre-established fourth wall, and helped me rebuild myself.

235, 123 of which were here at the same time. Never try this, or let it happen. Even if you decide to be a "temporary host", or "Half-way House", never hold more than 4 "actives" at the time, 6 if you happen to be a master at emotional detachment. Imagine being overtaken by all that load of emotions and thoughts at the same time; rage, joy, euphoria, ecstasy, pain, heartache...

My intentions for this blog are simple: to share my experiences in this field with fellow "hosts", hoping it will be of help. I know the wisest thing is to keep this quiet, but at this point in life, I just stopped caring about what "the best thing" is, concerning this. If I can be of help, I will be.

Intro

We needed a new space. "Sopa de Colores" is ok, but I write in spanish there, and I SERIOUSLY need to practice my English. And besides, what I write in other places is very different from what I plan on sharing here.
Here, I'll share my scars. Things that have happened and marked me. People who have been here, the mark they left in me, and how that makes me who I am today.

Cry for attention or not, here it goes, and I really hope readers find this both intersting and helpful in some way.