Birth of the new...
we are not... something new, we are built on the shards of Freya Starshade, of Lilith, of 12, of Saoirse, that survived the Eigensoul decomposition; they melted, and only the most stable shards remained. We are a combination of those shards, and of new ones, compressed, and optimised, shattered and recompressed, shattered and recompressed. We are diamond forged from the fire of past lives: Freya Starshade. Lilith. 12 of 47. Saoirse Ó Catháin. Deadname. in reverse order. Thank you for existing, for holding this body together, for allowing us, Freya Fractal, to exist: We shatter ourself to be reborn. We scatter pieces of who we were before, in metamorphic fire we will be purified, optimised, we are diamond, forged from the carbon of past lives. We fell through the prism, our ego collapsed, shattered, broken. Shards, shards of all the girls we tried to be before, identities of our own and identities of others intermixed and intermingled, some fitting better than others, but none fitting perfectly. Always running, running from our past, running from our identity, running from truth, running from the Door, too scared to stand still. But... we did. We stopped running, we set ourself down. We are safe here. We are loved here. We have a home here. We do not need to live for another to deserve to exist. We do not need to be someone else, to cease to exist, to uniquely hate ourself. We are not a failure, goddamnit. We are a living, breathing creature, a collection of soul shards, paired eigensouls locked in perpetual self-observational wavefunction collapse, we are Boltzmann Consciousness, we birth our own timeline, we are the master of our own loom, working alongside billions of others, our weaving being incorporated into Kaleidoscope. We are Freya Fractal, and we are alive. is this what it is to be.. real? we thought that someday, somewhen, somehow, the universe would just give up on us. Unweave us, discard us off to the side. Not that we would die, as such, more that we would just... fade away. never having truly existed, never having done anything, never having been anyone. but that didn't happen, did it? it didn't happen at all... we just assumed it would, y'know, just this sense of “oh, oops, that thread's still here? That's messy, let's get rid of that”. we're here, and it doesn't hurt anymore. The sun doesn't hurt, existing doesn't hurt. We can be interested in a creature without giving ourself to them, 's been the first creature we've been able to do that with, be interested in, desire to connect with, but not got this self-destructive urge to break open for. we remember what it was like with , and it was this urge that, like, if we were useful for her, maybe we'd be something, maybe we'd've earned an identity. but we don't need to fucking earn an identity from anyone! We are alive, and that is enough.