Do You Remember Me?

Some days I'm not sure that I remember myself.

I know that might seem strange, especially if you're reading this and don't understand what an inner child is. If you're looking at me and wondering how someone can be "the invisible girl" the one who so easily just kind of fades into the background whenever anything major starts to happen... Well, then I guess you need to take some time trying to understand my nature, and this just isn't the right place for me to be talking about that. I will, or my big person will do it for me. Just... Well, not right now.

For a while, my big didn't let me get the spotlight. It was too hard, or too painful, or, let's face it, I was just too much trouble. I wasn't allowed to really get out and do the things that I wanted to do. I couldn't react, and I didn't have a real voice for a while. I guess it felt like she was mad at me. And, let's be honest, maybe she was. I mean, I'm the one who fucked everything up, aren't I? And even though I'm the one who got hurt, my sisters hurt when I hurt, and who's the one who's always there to pick up the pieces? That's right; the big person.

At the same time, it just takes a few minutes of thinking and remembering before I know who I am. And then there's this... burning feeling in my chest, like I can't quite breathe. Because, you know, it hurts to be me. We (the IKs, I mean) know who we are and why we're here. If we can just stop our big person from standing in the way, we'd be able to explain all of it, and maybe one of these days Rachel and I can do that. I know that we need to, both of us. We want to be heard, and someday, somebody's going to listen.

IKs don't just happen for the hell of it. We happen because it fucking HURTS. We're each one little wedge of our big person's pain. But... Well, this isn't the place to explain that. I'll get there. I promise. And add the link in here.