I mean, who are we to judge?

This multiple system was referring to the concept of FAKERS. I know we've typed in a couple of stuff here about people who fake multiplicity ourself. Ninja's adamant about his position on shit like that. Take our coworker and buddy, Nacho. When he found out - well, when we told him we were a system, he started getting delusions that he was a system, too. Well, truthfully, he always had issues. There was a time when we doubted if he was Singleton or not, but as time went by, we garnered that all he wanted was attention. He's a real flamboyant type, always exaggerating his adventures and woes. Take for example, BandTango. It was this rock festival that happened last year, July of 2007. Of course we went. And we had a blast. Once there, I ran into Nacho and Felix, another coworker. And they're cool with me, they're both my buddies. But I got more expensive seats and so was not up on the bleachers of the ballpark, but down in the pit, right in front of the stage. I didn't see much of anyone except the rock stars and myselves. However, after the Canadian rock band Kittie performed, the girls of the band went out among the ballpark to mingle with fans while the festival continued. I didn't get to catch Morgan, but I did run into her sister and another of the members, their lead guitarist. Sadly I can't remember her name. Anywho, we had a disposable camera, and we'd been taking a break from it all in between bands up in the bleachers with Nacho n' Felix. They were both buzzin' and drinking more and more beer. Since we had the kids along for the show, we didn't drink that day. (But we did have Funnel Cake!) My point is, I spot the girls, right? And of course Ninja melts, and wants to go meet 'em. (They be fuckin' hot, yo.) So we go up to 'em and drag Nacho along, 'cause we need someone to take our fuckin' picture wit' 'em. An' he comes along, all wobbly n' shit, and jokingly mutters in our ear: "Hey, I should ask them to sign my tit. You think they'd do it?" And he kinda lifts his shirt up a bit. I laugh it off an' then I'm there wit' 'em. He snaps our picture, we thank the ladies, hug 'em (I was this close ta grabbin' some ass... but nah, I wouldn't a' done it. I's ain't that type a' fan.), and move along. We get to work on Monday, n' he's all tellin' everyone at the warehouse that he went up to 'em and asked them to sign his tit, an' that they freaked out n' shit.

Right. Fucker, I was there! So y'see my point when I say I don't believe everything he says to us at face value. He exaggerates. And he does it for attention. I seriously think he got hooked on pity when he was going through his divorce a few years back.

But then, he started makin' refrences to "his voices" an' how he was diffren' people. There's Juan, he said, an' there's Nacho. An' Juan's the Good Guy an' Nacho's Evil. An' he used ta change his handwriting. At firs', I's let it go, 'cause a'ight, let the guy have this thrills. But then he kept at it, an' it started drivin' me up the damn wall! So I's jus' tol' the others to take over, man, 'cause I was gonna sucker punch this bitch if he ever mentioned his damn voices again. It seemed he only did it 'round us, too.

Well, when we finally tol' him 'bout us, he dropped the subject all together. Except for the part where he tol' us he was multiple too. I think he knows we don' really b'lieve him, though, an' he eventually dropped that, too. He don't bring up his "voices" or "personalities" anymore though, and that's a relief. I remember us handling the situation the way Piojo advised us to: choose a Frontrunner, stick with that person, and then use that Frontrunner to try to speak to Nacho in multiple terms. That is, be understanding and believe him (or act like we did), and try to "persuade" his other people into showing their face. If he really was multiple, they'd react, he said. As a Protector, he knows his shit. If it's an act, Piojo told us, he'll freak out, not understand, and drop the act. Nacho's done the latter of the two. He completely freaked out at the possibility of us actually believing his story, and after two days, he never mentioned anything to do with multiplicity ever again.

And see, he couldn't even keep his shit straight. There was two of them, no there was a girl in there too, and no, it's demons and he's possessed, and he sees crap like dead hands all over his room, and he hears ghosts and shit. Now he's convinced it's not multiplicity, but, as he still wants the attention, now it's ghosts. His house, and no, his room is haunted. Multiplicity stopped having any appeal to him once he found out he wasn't the "only one" in his life that "had it." So now, he's being tormented by demons, and it's brujeria n' shit.

This is why I completely understand this other system when they speak of their contempt for Fakers. 'Cause hell, I fell contempt for them too. Attention-seekers, is all they be. However, what if we ever tried to come into contact with other systems? Would they think we are fakers? The only system we've ever reached out to before (and got a response) was the Astrea system. Their guys were pretty cool about it. They're like the gurus of this stuff, I believe. They're probably one of the first systems to publically come online and still have an active site. They took some time to read a few of our entries here, and wrote us an email saying how they believed us; truly thought we were multiple too. I still have that email, actually. We treasure it dearly. And we don't need proof from any other source. Who better to know if a system is real than another system? Right? That's how we knew Pifas was real. His system was confused and fractured to the end, sure, they never met each other, I don't think, until damn near close to the end, but we could tell. We could tell, even when he never realized he was multiple. I picked up on these little quirks he'd do: the switching, the speaking of himself in the third person, or in plural form, his "mood swings" which in reality were differing outlooks on the same life, the works. I told my mother way before the doctors told us he was terminally ill, that our father was multiple. "I think that's where we got it from," I told her. And she didn't believe me.

Until she witnessed it herself.

My mother met one of my father's people, she met a child. Miguelito, is what my system calls that child. I don't know if that was his real name, but it seems to fit, and I heard my father refer to himself with that name (even though it's not even close to his given birth name) in a small, playful yet shy childish voice. My mother met the child, and as his illness progressed, his multiplicity became more marked, his switching more noticable, and she could no longer deny the facts. She would look at me in awe, her eyes full of wonder and slight fear. And I understand. This was the man she married and had four children with (two of whom never really had a chance at life), spent over ten years of her life with. I know she asked herself how she never could have seen this before, and how maybe if she'd seen it, things might've been different between them both. And who truly procreated my siblings, both internal and external? Who among his people was really my father? It wasn't Miguel, that's for sure. But who made love to my mother when they were first married, on their honeymoon? Or was she just a fuck all along to one of them? Was the man that raised me those first few years the same one that procreated me, or was it someone else? Or were several of them frontrunning the entire time? Do my outsider siblings and us have -- *snrk* -- do we have different fathers?

In the end, it doesn't matter. They're all gone now, his people. I miss them, all of them. I remember our trips with 'Apa to Mexico. Miguelito would happily skip and point to random pretty, shiny things while Yang firmly clasped his tiny hand. Then there was the Unnamed Ones that we never got to truly meet, but we'd catch glimpses of them: the proud, strong man who insisted on carrying the heavy groceries, the tender, loving person who'd put their arm around our shoulders and look at us with pride. Or course there was R�le, frontrunning as usual, instructing us where to drive, where to park, take this bridge back across the river, ect. He was difficult to get along with, but he had his uses.

Again, none of this matters in the end, and I'm sorry I'm deviating from the subject at hand. It's just that it all still hurts. I miss them, all of them, and I wish they were here this Christmas. I can still remember the feel of their hands, soft and weathered like worn leather, and his dark skin and crooked nails. His hands were always bigger than mine, no matter how big we got, or how our hands eventually outgrew our mother's and older sister's. Women have such tiny hands...

But I knew then, that he was a system. I knew. And with Nacho, I also knew. Knew that he wasn't what he claimed to be. And although Astrea knows we really are what we say we are, I'm not sure all multiples would say the same. Largely due to the fact that there was no real trauma or abuse in our life to cause us to "dissassociate." That, and the fact we've never seen it as a hindering handicap, but rather as a gift. We are better able to cope with everyday stresses than Singletons, I believe, because we can just switch frontrunners to a person better suited for the situation. I feel that because we're not fractured, and untrusting to each other, that we will not be believed. Because how was it possible that we healed ourself without the aid of a therapist? We've never been to one. Hell, we've never even been diagnosed. It's the same argument we have with our outside-sister, and her husband. How can we know, truly know, if we've never been to a professional. Well, who gives a crap?! How can a therapist, a singleton person with a little paper on the wall behind glass, know more about what goes on in our head than ourself? Where's the sense in that? Why can't I get a paper and diagnose myself? What makes Astrea's word less valid?

If another system were to raise the question of our validity, however, I don't think I'd be able to stand it. Perhaps that's why we've never tried to reach another system. We read their public diaries, go to their websites, but we hesitate to announce ourself. Fear of rejection? Of course, you silly cunts. Humans are social creatures, and crave companionship. You read them to feel connected to someone similar to yourselves, but you don't reach out to them because... you are flawed. (I can't believe he just called us "silly cunts.")