Baby is very complicated to explain to another person, she was a concept, a representation of the ideal feminine archetype, born from an adolescent traumatic experience.
I miss her all the time, and not at all, simultaneously
She would exhaust me, drain me of all my resources, degrade me, humiliate me, hold my head underwater for months, years at a time, I bent over backwards trying to keep up.
She would take the wheel, and prevent me from reacting, speaking, breathing, living.
I never saw myself surviving the identity disorder at all.
I remember once I prayed to God, asking if I could live a long healthy life as her, not me. I didn’t know what to call it yet. I hadn’t named her. I knew nothing about identity disorders. Yet I knew I wasn’t being myself, rarely ever. when I was in make up and her outfits. My mask, and my costume. The world was my stage.
I spent all my time masquerading as someone I wasn’t. I’m not as slim as Baby was, nor as pretty. I don’t turn heads. I’m smarter, outspoken, vocal and honest. She lied and pretended from the day she was born, to the day she died.
Baby died a small, silent, death. Only I grieved her. The grief was a lot to carry. I developed a form of temporary amnesia, my brains way of protecting me. I didn’t recognise my face, name, family, home, nothing. Everything was unfamiliar, foreign and strange.
I remember thinking it was unbearable, and then it became bearable, as everything does.
I’m in a much better place these days, the grief has gone, and in it’s place acceptance. For what happened, how strange it is, how much I loved her, myself, the performance itself. Who I am, what stage I’m at in my life. I know who I am now, underneath the layers of make up, the carefully chosen clothing, the hairspray, the pvc or the sad smile I was what I am and will always be. A writer, a dreamer, a hopeless romantic, and a Marilyn Monroe wannabe.
Beauty and terror infected me at a young age, I can’t shake that. I will probably always worry about my appearance. Want to be beautiful, mysterious and powerful. It’s just how i choose to manifest and wield that power these days. I prefer to do it through making art, writing words, creating music. Everything i make reflects me better than the make up ever did. Anyone who appreciates my writing, can see me, not her. And that is the best feeling.