So yesterday, I finally told Art the horrible truth. And by "horrible" I just mean it's ginormous, at least to us. It was... disappointingly anti-climatic. (Is "disappointingly" even a word? Oh, well.) We didn't even get to elaborate, state our names, or even how many we are. He got whisked away to help with the Air Dock soon after. Work is never a good place to talk. (Turn that damn Head Music off, Jack!)

*pause while Ninja argues with the alien in the back of my mind*

Things went kinda like: "Thing is, I'm multiple." Art blinks. "I have multiple personalities." Art shruggs. "Okay," he says. "ART! NEED YOUR HELP IN THE AIRDOCK, PLEASE!" He skedaddles. ("I am Jack, and I approve skeddaddle.")

Now it's all said and done, after hem-hawing over this decision for over two years, and I feel sick to our stomach. Not all of us approve of this decision, but we feel a lot better knowing at least our individual identities is safe. (Yes, I know that sentence is grammatically incorrect. We did it that way on purpose, dammit.) That pulse-pounding in our brain...

I don't know what we want from Art. (How about a little curiosity, for Pete's sake! Show that you give a shit about finding out that one of your quote-on-quote "only friends" is actually a group of people! And - graaah! - I feel so... insulted somehow. Like we insulted ourself. Like we were grabby for Outsider attention and fell back on the old trick of revealing ourself because we knew - or hoped - it would cause noteriety. And you let us down, Art! 'Cause you didn't give a shit. Gah, how pathetic are we? I guess the old adage is true. "Everyone just wants to be loved." And seen? Isn't seeing us the first step? How can you care about me if you don't see mees?)

My inner world is my sanctum. My protector is my shepherd. I shall not want.