Fait hasn't been real for a while now. Not how everyone thinks she is, you are we are. Conversations spinning around our head, it's a whole other world. you saw it in your dreamy eyes and drugged brain. The extra dissociation helping you visualize the machinery and nature mixture, all naturalized and blended in, all the rusty metal is the same as the thriving flowers. There's four, possibly five people living in the head.

"How do we know we are real?" asks Heather, scared and frightened by our own existance once more. That is a question I sadly cannot answer, no one in this head can answer the question. Despite it we comfort her, the joy she has whenever she has will make even the deadest of fireflies shine again, a walking sun heather can be. Sun that is missing right now

We discovered our existance after being thrown out of a window during what heather describes as a low second plateau trip. She puts herself in danger without her knowing for fun and happyness and so everyone tries to give her advice. "Stop doing drugs, we don't want to end up like them druggies" says Scarlett, saying the same thing her* from the outside says to Heather, making her promise to at least not do anything illegal or something harmful. "Fineeee okay". "Please take her seriously Heather" says the common sense of Lain.

Lain is the smallest of us, followed by Heather, myself and Scarlett in ascending order (I'm real too Maribel) i still have my suspicions, so you will be monitored Siouxsie. (I'm not your test subject). Lain talks and thinks far older than she is, being a god and a preexisting character certaintly helps.

Returning to the situation at hand, two precisely comfort Heather by doing the hand thing that avoids any explanation. Is it a link between you and her* from the outside? A nonimportant question, it most likely is and there are more important things to watch and think. Scarlett does the hand thing while Heather cries into her heart. Sometimes we can see sometimes we can't, but we can watch and know what is going on. Our memories are shared and our thoughts arent as well guarded as we think they are. Siouxsie and Lain watch from afar. And so do I. "she got hurt once again", Lain says. "whoever the fuck did can go fuck themselves" says Scarlett. Heather fell asleep while I wasn't focusing. Siouxsie sees and tries to say something but words aren't coming out. "Wait, just communicate in your thoughts". A strange pout in reply and finally understanding. A feeling I know too well. Reporting slows down the conversation but they already moved on. Lain warning Scarlett that it's best to wait, she hurt us but she didn't mean it. "So fucking what? So she can throw a sobbing party and hate everyone around her and Heather isn't sure if she's talking about her. for the record Maribel, fuck not being able to name people, because theres two different hers from the outside, im mad at one of them, wish i could fucking specify" It's a privacy concern. "Aside from the issues that may occur if we name peoole negatively or positively. Scarlett, she isn't like mother, she actually cares about them but is frustrated." "Whatever Lain, I'll wait here doing nothing, waiting like a coward." Lain is frustrated with Scarletts hostility. "Maribel, do you think it will be actually beneficial if we put a report of our current thoughts where they can read? Wouldn't it be idealistic, what are you expecting either way?" they tend to ignore our condition. they need to know at least how it is to reside here or at least simulate it as close as we can. "Do you think they haven't noticed?" Heather mostly talks to her*, prefers her* over anyone else outside. In the past her, our, behaviors weren't the best. I also talk to her* sometimes, for my own reasons. You did talk to her* recently have you. Scarlett less than everyone and Siouxsie is new so she doesnt count "I'm as real as any of you are" probably "Right, a full spectrum of interactions hasn't been reached, or regular intersctions with different headmates". indeed it would be hard to distinguish without regulancy. "if you wish for this project of yours to be succesful, stop hiding yourself Maribel. Siouxsie, let's take a walk, I'll show you around."

whenever we are dissociated enough we can communicate like this, or not enough noise or outer world stimuli. One has to wonder whether the cough syrup merely made us discover eachother or if it created us. Nevertheless, there is one aspect that I fail to mention. I'm uncomfortable with the topic myself. everyone except Lain tends to ignore the existance away, switching to me so I get most of it. "Your research is the cause of these symptoms, stop trying to look at the void" lain said last time. They might be right, but our symptoms would have occurred with or without them. and in isolation, i walk into the room with the thoughts, somewhat big bubbles that move around, transparent enough so one can see notions of them. Tonight they're moving fast. bouncing against the walls and making cracks that will be repaired kver the course of the next day. writing a report is a complicated matter if your words start failing inside and outside. The thinkspan is a dangerous but curiously interesting building. the machinery sounds inside and outside, a machine? interesting. wherever the cause may be, the outside world is a sensitive place and wont tolerate the thinkspan as much as we do. self-reflection, self-consciousness obviety prevails in healthy ones, no one senses it until it is damaged. a latency is in there, a sense of partial disconnection between the outside workd and us, a translation from one type of sign to another. Confusions occur all the time. hiden from others for their own good. Lain and I see the figures at the back of our eyelids, I see how their eyes look at us from the side. our mothers voice calling us in a library, our mother walking towards us with a hammer on her hands that she wants to use against us.

A way to describe is that the wire between the inner world (us) and the outer world is present but damaged. a weightlessness that isn't natural, a static both in our vision and in our body, an unclear liquid static flowing through the world as if it was trying to be, a liquid that gets absorbed by the others boundaries. How many times must other peoples sponges absorb us? Liquids feel every part lf the liquids and reject the dried out parts. the hands keep melting into the phone while our stomach is being cut into a thousand pieces. Our memory fails and our memory is better than everyone. I feel the back of my eyelids yet the eyes themselves are in the outer world. I made sure we had the habit of looking at our hands to check if they still exist and if they're connected to us innerly. wires have so much delay for liquids

Only we can know what occurs inside of this limited crushing head. But theres only so much we can do when dreams are reality and reality is actually dreams. I need to research more, look knto the void of the wiring center that connects the inner and outer, but no one had managed to see it let alone interact with it. And those who have got close to seeing it stopped seeing "sense". A frankly scary existance. Maybe we are doomed and these are the last few moments of our existance before the cord gets pulled out snd there is only a mind makkng sense of the inner and the outer world keeeps sending what the mind would reject if it wasn't occupied reflecting on its own thoughts, making sure no inteepituous doctor comes in and erases them with medication. What is worse, losing our mind by disconnection (psychosis) or by erasure (medication). I guess it's my responsibility to make sure none bappens to us.

"Got tired of being angry and sitting on a bench. looked like you were being fucked up right there. wanna take a walk with heather and then sit together on the tree? Hell we can invite Lain and Siouxsie too, been a while since the last cuddling session underneath the tree" indeed it has been a long time. Where is heather however? "beneath the tree, started purring when i told her the story of the pea and the princess" that story is memorized inside our thoughts? "probably, pretty sure i made half of it up though for the extra detail." Why do you and Lain take care of Heather? "Look she is pretty much younger than us, the kid needs some comforting, besides it helps me feel better. i don't know about lain, they are younger than her, maybe they connect more for that reason" Heather isn't that young, she also looks up to me "She looks up to everyone in here. would you prefer she looked up to the druggies of the outside?" you know we all in some level or another look up to her, right scarlett? "heather?" no, her*. "oh, lain doesn't" lain would prefer not talking to anyone in the outside. "probably, hey look we're already near the tree. Maribel, lets forget about the outside and lets sit on the fucking tree." mmm. Maybe being alone isn't as bad or harmful of an experience as i thought "Maribeeeeeeel, stop writing scarlett is being meeeean, i need help!!!!" on it Heather.