I'm scared for X.

I know that's not the logical response for someone who's locked in the mental equivalent of a prison because they're not the one with the most power here, but it's true. I'm scared for X. I know they're spiraling right now, and they're pretending not to watch me write this, if they see it at all. They zone out sometimes. It's one of the most common ways for me to get journaling time. X doesn't always like it when I get a turn these days.

I'm... okay with that, I think. I don't care about a lot of people, but I care about X. And they need time to figure out who they are, which needs to happen on their own, without me hovering over their shoulder. That's fine. They don't need me as much as they used to, and I'm proud of them for that: they've grown a lot these last few years. More than a few, really. They don't always see it because they hit the age where people start to get weird about anyone who's not in their clique, but they've improved a LOT since elementary school. Socially and otherwise.

Just... not quite as much as they need to. We're both that age where teenagers start to rebel against the systems they live in, I guess, but I never really went through that, and that's kind of a privilege, really. To stay so much more level-headed. I've gotten us out of a few scary situations lately. Hell, just today. That's why I'm up here. X is so wrapped up in their own loneliness that they've lost sight of which people are bad for them, and it scares me.

I should be scared for myself, too, but I'm trying not to be. We're in this together.

I just hope X sees that.

I have a theory about what makes one of us more dominant than the other at any given time. It's emotion. Of any kind. Back in elementary school... I took over, really. X was very sensitive back then. They still are; they've just learned to handle it better. A little better. And I feel for them, because yeah, things have been getting worse. It's not just me; we're actually different from most people in a lot of ways, and X doesn't want to see it. They don't even want to look into it, get an assessment or even research things online. Like any acknowledgement of difference will ruin their chances of fitting in once and for all.

I want to know what makes us different. It's easier to manage, then, and I think X is wrong about one thing. Diagnosis doesn't make you weird. It just explains the weirdness that was already there, and makes it... not about us, in a way? Obviously, it's still about us because it is us, but it turns "I'm just weird" into "I'm just different, wired differently, and I can work around that." Which is a lot easier to work with.

X wants to change, but you can't change without knowing yourself. You'll just keep circling back around and around to what's familiar, even subconsciously, because you don't know enough about yourself to diverge from it. If you even should, which is another question. Life will be nothing but a painful struggle if we have to fake who we are all the way through it, and that's what I've been trying to tell X for years.

I don't know if they've been listening.

They've been changing as we grow. Throwing more and more of themself out into the world, and coming back disoriented, upside down, angry. Usually at me. Probably at themself, but it comes out at me. I started quietly protecting the core of who we are when I saw it starting. X doesn't like to remember who they were in the past because who they were is always "worse" than who they are now, and they're ashamed of their past self. Constantly. It hurts to watch.

But I've started keeping those pieces. I hope X will get to a point someday where they realize the value of continuity and want those pieces back again. I'll hold them for us. I'm okay doing that. Taking that job, that work, even if I have to do it in secret because X would freak out if they knew. I'm holding the wonder they used to feel for the world: that starry-eyed awe that led them to make that Fantasy world they've started discarding recently. I'm holding the creativity that kept that world going. The curiosity to be interested in my contributions.

Not caring what people thought of them used to be one of their things, too, until they dumped it on me and then demonized it. I keep it because I believe in it. It's always been part of me, too, but I guess we've both been shaped by each other. The farther X pushes me away, the more I hold onto the things they aren't. Both because those things are me, but also because I don't want to lose them. I don't want to lose us. Who we used to be, which is who we really are, beneath all the angst and the spirals and the questioning. I've kept sight of that only because I've been trying so hard to. And now X is trying to throw even that away.

Okay yeah, I'm scared. I can admit that, though I don't want to. I don't want to believe X could do what they're proposing. To themself, or to me. We're the same person, after all. Just different facets. Different sides.

I'm going to gather more of the things now. They don't want me around at the moment, and that's fine. I can respect that. I'll give them space if it means they cool down a little. And if they don't cool down...

I don't want to think about that.

But I have to, even if they won't, so I'm gathering everything they're throwing away, and hoping I can hold it all until they calm down again. Our way of working together. Their sense of self. Our sense of self. It belongs to both of us. I need to keep telling myself that, when they shut me away because their emotions are stronger than mine now, so when we fight like this, they win. It used to be my protective instinct that took over. X was so unsure of themself back then. They wanted a break from it, so they let me take the reins.

I was hoping they'd grow into themself with a strong enough sense of identity that they could match me that way. I wasn't expecting them to do the opposite. To want to be someone else so strongly that I ended up here, locked upstairs, sneaking in journal entries when X is distracted enough not to see. I want to record this in case... in case something happens.

I hope they know where we come from. Who we both used to be, before X split us because they needed someone to protect them, and that someone was me. My side of us. It's going to keep coming back to haunt them, whether or not I'm here.