I'm lonely.

And scared.

Am I going to live the rest of my life like this? Looking for friends, for kindred spirits, for a partner that may or may not actually exist? I still believe they do. But it's been years now, and the search is only getting harder. I feel like everyone is drifting away from me faster than I can keep up, and that's with them not even trying. When they try, they drift so much faster.

I don't want to be lonely for the rest of my life. It hurts. But if the evidence so far points to anything, it's that I will be alone forever unless something changes, and I really, really want it to change.

M is still locked upstairs. But they're talking to me again, and no amount of doors I add can stop it. Maybe because some part of me still wants to hear them, because they're all I have. Hah. I really am crazy, aren't I. I've been lonely for so long, with no way of fixing it, that I've started talking to myself, and pretending that I answer. That's a mark of insanity, isn't it?

There's too much of M in me. That's how I've ended up here, isn't it. I'm the one who didn't want to get out of this toxic relationship. Who was so weak, M had to step up and protect me. Who was so scared of the world, M had to pretend it didn't scare us. Who was so lonely, M became real, and then I couldn't let go of them. I was too scared to lose them, my only company, even if I might find more friends outside if I did. Because if I lost M and didn't find friends, I'd have nobody. I don't want to have nobody. Having nobody keeps me up at night and gives me nightmares where people I care about get shot, and there's nothing I can do. I want someone to care for, to care about, to protect, to relate to. That's not M.

M stopped caring about everyone else as a defense mechanism. It was useful, once upon a time. But it's not anymore, and I've never stopped caring. I know my answer now. To the question about being yourself all the time versus being able to be anyone.

I want to be anyone. If I want anything nice in life, something has to change, and that something is me.

(M keeps begging to be let out. Saying they care about me. Saying I'm going to self-destruct. Maybe I am. They've always been right about that, too, after all. I'm the reckless one. But whatever happens to me will be worth it)

Once I can become anyone, I'm going to become a person who doesn't need M. I already have a plan. I'm going to study people. Take notes. Make rules for myself, and stick to them, and set up a reward system if I do. Punish myself if I don't. I'm going to practice a LOT. Put myself in places that will force me to practice. I'm smart. I know I'm a good student. I know I can do this if I try hard enough.

It's going to be a long, hard process, but it will be worth it in the end. I know it will. Good things come to normal people, and I'm trying to be normal. To make people stop looking at me funny on the sidewalk or at school. No more weird. No more darkness. I'm finally going to turn this around and take back control of my life.

Maybe I'll finally, finally find somewhere I belong.

But if I want to take control, I need M gone. M doesn't want to leave. They've told me that. Begged me. Which means nobody can do anything about it except me.

(If I'm being honest, this still scares me more than a little)

M is still a part of me. Will I lose something, if they're gone? I've known them for so long, it feels like an amputation, or a betrayal. But not of M, not really. M is me. I'd be betraying myself.

But would I really be? They're their own person now.

Which means this feels like murder.

Am I a murderer, if it's my own mind? I live here. I'm the original. Well, we were both here, but I had a name first. M only stepped up because some part of me asked them to. They're not serving that purpose anymore. They say they're the one who keeps us as us, but I don't want that anymore. I want to be someone else.

Things will get better, I promise. Things will get better. Everything will get better soon.

If I can't change on this, I can't change on anything. I need to stop being so scared. I don't need protection anymore. I'm going to become someone who doesn't need M. This is just the first test.

(I have a plan for getting rid of M. I won't write it here, though. Not unless it works. M might see it, but if all goes well, this journal will never hear from them again. Wish me luck. I'm going to go finalize the plan)

(M is crying now. M doesn't cry. I'm the emotional one)

(I'm scared)

(I need to stop being scared. Deep breaths, X. First test. You can pass it. I believe in you)

(Good luck, love. I don't love you. But I will soon)

***

Oh my god. I think I actually did it.

***

Sorry, I'm just... I'll be back. I'm shaking too hard to write.

***

I did it. The plan went perfectly. You know that bracelet we found... M found, at a thrift store years ago? There was something about it, they said. And there was, really. I wore it every day. It kept us together, me and M, back in those years when I wanted them around. I even played with it when I wanted to remember I wasn't alone, because M responded to it, and they'd come comfort me. Or protect me if I grabbed it and called for them. But then I forgot that part of things, and it was just a bracelet.

But I remembered again, last night. Remembered that it kept us together. How it felt like M solidified when I put it on. I gave them their name with that bracelet. And I thought last night, what if that was literal? The keeping-together part. Or at least strong enough that it could do what I couldn't alone?

So I walked to the bridge over the river. The really high one, with the rapids below. And then I took off the bracelet and snapped it, and threw it off the bridge.

I think it worked.