remnantworld text hub

this past week has been horrible. upon finally reaching some level of progress with bringing yazoo to body-front, i've been severely dissociated and hypervigilant when thinking about myself, to the point where even writing this has my shoulders and jaw clenched. i think there is a Something that is trying to keep us from actualizing, the same Something that allowed me to be dissolved and encased in metal from while a part of a certain group.

this Something, an entity encountered during a rather maddening time in my life, does not speak in any known language, and it seems to have some beef with kadaj. when he was banished to the forest, you could hear him screaming from the tops of the trees, in the direction of the wasteland, where the Path seemed to lead to the language-less entity. the birds often would try to get him to come down and relax with them, but he wouldn't until he met some unknown quota of anger and satisfaction. this was during what i consider my trials with kadaj, where he challenged everything about me and the system at every turn. this was a particularly bad time, as his screaming could last for days, and as such, kept me up after days filled with physical and emotional labor in the outside world, leading to a severe mixed mania-depression where i had to be hospitalized. while in the hospital i was barred access from the inner world entirely, and when i returned, kadaj had fallen silent for several days.

something tells me that it has a vested interest in not allowing kadaj access to the outside world. i couldn't tell you why. he hasn't spoken of any interest in destruction beyond what i have also spoken of (general tearing down of What Is), and has retired his apocalypse herald/accelerationist hobby. what he wants most is to exist. he wants to Be. but whatever the Something is, it is rallying against him by repeatedly putting me into crises to halt any progress towards his actualization. why it's okay with me and yazoo but not him is beyond me at the moment. but it's frightening. i feel horribly tense and afraid of everything and everyone. faces warp, i can't look in mirrors. luckily, i feel my material conditions are well enough that i will likely not need another hospital stay -- i've been able to eat, sleep, and remain mostly on-routine in a way that feels comfortable and not over-exhausting like i was a few years ago. i have friends and family -- inside and out -- that have been very kind and understanding of my need to take steps back from activities and social engagement. i can't possibly explain why this is happening, but again, luckily, the people around me rarely need explanation. it's a blessing, honestly.

for the time being, yazoo and kadaj have stepped back from attempting body-control until i am on more solid ground. we might have to devise a plan to address the Something and its hatred of our brother, but that seems to be in the far future, for right now. for right now, my days are spent in rest and recuperation from the disorienting feeling it seems to be inflicting on my psyche. it seems to want me to stop being me, stop being loz, again, and i refuse. every refusal leaves me dazed. but i'm getting stronger. i don't care what the fuck anything throws at me. i refuse to be molded into someone else's beast ever again. and now i have two others at my side, not counting headmates that have been supportive of me since i started acting in line with my true self. and i certainly won't let some nebulous Thing stop me from allowing my siblings to exist as much as me.

early-born. premature. something less stirring, less heartbreaking, but still meaningful. a name that millions have granted to a beloved child.
i was the first of three. i am small for my age, especially in comparison to the rest of my family, the enormous freaks. my first birth was chaotic and short. i didn't last much longer than a few weeks before diving head-first into the lifestream. there's pain there. we could say i was stillborn, or miscarried, or whatever, based on this alone. but i'd rather we not.

ascribing incompleteness to me or my siblings is playing into the hands of those who already see us as "less than". larvae, fragments, facsimiles of a greater Person. we require each other, yes. but we are also fully formed -- beautiful -- as we are. there is nothing incomplete about us. there is nothing incomplete about me.

i don't have it in me to constantly dispute what might be 20 years worth of bad-faith interpretation of my own name. i don't have it in me to challenge the "creators" of the compilation, as one intangible creature in a tangible world. so here i post, in my corner of the world, that i am not incomplete. i was not born dead, or weak, or insufficient. just a little earlier than others, requiring some extra support.

clipping a butterfly's wings not just in the "we hate your individuality" way but in a way that keeps it in a larval state forever, as some kind of sick joke. and then getting mad when it doesn't get up and fly around like you want it to.