I just feel like typing. About 5ish days ago Darold was in for a few days. He was the last person who actually knew who he was. Since then it's been like a revolving door, a roller coaster ride. For a few days someone was very suicidal, which makes the whole body ache for days afterwards. I feel okay but have no idea who I am. I'm recalling decades ago when this body actually had friends how they would call us a chameleon. We didn't think much of it back then but now everything makes sense.

How is one to be productive when their personality, desires, dislikes, mental state changes so often? Decades ago it seems like we didn't change as often. Some of us have so much passion to do things, but others have the most intense desire to only die. One day we may only desire to be a spiritual person like the Dalai Lama and feel like puking at the thought of science, but one minute later be the complete opposite. Some of us want to date. Some of us would rather die then talk to anyone. Some of us want to start a business and become wealthy. Some of us want to live in the forest meditating all day. Sometimes we just want to scream for help.

We don't have any therapist now, but our DID therapist kept getting upset at us because we refused to get disability. I guess that would trigger certain parts to come out who wanted just one thing, to become a successful business person.

Anyway I feel like typing a book but will stop. I just feel so confused like I'm a thousand people at once right now, a desire to scream at the top of my lungs, to go to the library, to make friends, to go to a Buddhist temple, to go to a mental hospital.

-- A thousand voices