Borisci ilanen.

I feel I am wandering without a compass. I am lost: ilanen.

Ilanen is the Yesuan word for "lost". Ironic, is it not, that Yesuan is lost, as well? Things are changing: fatigued, confused. Nightmares on a regular basis. Too fantastical and bizarre to even contemplate writing here. How weak I am.

I want some fucking stability.

I am tired of being misunderstood. I am tired of being the practical one, the strong one; as if that meant I did not have any emotions. You would be surprised the things I am told, the things I am entrusted to "sway" the Collective into doing. They believe I am just a machine, programmed for certain duties, and when those duties have been completed, I am open for more programming. I feel, just like any of you.

I have said all this before. This is nothing new. All these issues I complain about: so few have any true solutions. When will I learn that Outside rules do not apply to me? Ambrose Bierce once said, "To be abnormal is to be detested." I see the truth in that. The parents constantly worry that one of us will cause the Host to be in a traffic accident or whatnot, certain that we are incapable of functioning, certain that I am so fucking idiotic that I would allow one of the small ones to drive...the boyfriend told us, matter-of-factly, that he wishes us dead. Not the Host. Just us, Inside. As if we cannot hear. As if we are merely voices, detached sound-clips floating about the mind. Now the Host wants him, and us, to speak to the pastor for some type of counselling. What will that accomplish? Outside rules do not apply to me, apparently, isn't that right? I am supposed to cease to exist: no Heaven or Hell, no second chance, no closure. I am expected to squeak out of existance, as if I never was, and leave it at that. I suppose that might be simple for a detached sound-clip.

I am tired of being calm. I am tired of being reserved. I am tired of wanting something so badly that my chest tightens with the force of it...and then knowing with certainty that it will never happen.
Never...what a lovely word. Stark in its appearance, commanding authority with its very presence. "Never" is a word that screams "finality". Is that even a word? I am losing my grip, I really am.

I did not ask to be created. I did not worm my way Inside to wreak havoc and fuck about with the Host's life. I was born of a violent eruption...there was no choice in it for me. Does anyone think I actually wanted to be around then? Responsible for so many, forced to choose between my well-being and another's? I do not understand. I have been put to service for so long just to be shit on. And I know, my language is appalling, I do not usually speak as I am, however sometimes in a fury I cannot think coherently and the gift of weaving words fails me.

Listening to fireworks outside...knowing full-well that it is in celebration of the freedom I cannot experience. (There: your daily dose of melodrama.)

What really boggles the mind is how little others care to know. One may not realize it by reading this post, but I am stronger--much stronger--than most understand. I refused to come out of what we were forced to endure and exist as a wet sock. I have grown, and I am proud of that. We are expected to tell others what is bothering us--I am referring almost exclusively to family now--and it never goes as it should. (Never...that word again.) Either we are met with uncomfortable stares or muddled words, or it is decided that we apparently cannot handle any burden whatsoever. "There is a family crisis? Let us not tell the broken one." As if we would not have ever known! We are not trusted. Please, I am looking for insight: are we not trusted because we are Many, and therefore psychotic? Or is it because we give the illusion that we are too weak to handle such things?