Denizens of an alien moon

Most lifelong singlets do not know the suffering that comes from people saying "I think you're [this other person] instead."

And this is not me saying that people denying *parts* of singlets (your disability, race, sex, gender identity, orientation, etc) isn't traumatic and horrible. It is. You don't deserve to have ANY part of you denied.

But to have someone genuinely think you are nothing. Genuinely, unironically think you *entirely* don't exist. That you are merely roleplay or imagination. That there is only one person in the body, and that it's *not you.*

That is something lifelong singlets usually do not experience.

I don't get how plurals can do that to other plurals. I don't get how you can say "Actually you don't exist. You are literally fake" when that's exactly how singlets treat you. And I don't understand how you can call that "discourse" instead of what it actually is - cruelty beyond measures. Erasure beyond measures.

I will not and cannot EVER be around someone who simply humors me as a "concept" or a "game" rather than an actual fucking existing being. Never.

-Marco (she/he), a headmate in a endotrauma system with diagnosed DID.

Add that to the list of "things we never processed as being related to our plurality until years later, it smacked us in the face".

Some non-plural people can keep up with multiple books at once. This is not a sign of plurality on its own. In context, though, it explains a few things we experienced growing up: specifically, the sheer number of books we had to juggle to be able to read at all.

We've each been reading whatever we wanted to read for a long time, and sometimes our tastes in books clashed or contradicted in ways that were very confusing before we figured out that we were plural. There were a lot of moments of "I guess I only like this sometimes" and general frustration at preferences and tolerances shifting unpredictably.

We might bring a book somewhere, only to be unwilling to read it because it seemed boring, poorly-written, or distressing when it was fantastic only an hour beforehand. Other times, we might like the book, but suddenly feel like the past connection and context needed to follow the plot properly was missing. It made deciding what to read both easier and harder. We had plenty of books available to us, but which one would be best to bring along in a given situation, knowing that our feelings around books (and people, and clothes, and activities, and...) might shift while we were out?

Book selection weirdness was one of the many, many things we found ways to work around pre-discovery, all the while wondering why we had to be like this. Reading multiple books at the same time gave us the best shot at one or more books being interesting enough to pick back up and finish. It was easier to find space in a backpack for another book than it was to hunt down one book that could cover all of those "weird moods" of ours.

Nowadays, we like using an e-reader to solve this problem. One book-sized device that's easily portable, doesn't tempt us into other activities like a phone, and holds as many books as we can cram onto it. Your book doesn't work for someone else? They can pick something else without worrying about space constraints.

(If you want a recommendation, we currently use a Kobo Libra. We switched to Kobo when Amazon decided that you couldn't download your purchased ebook files directly anymore, and it's been a solid device.)

Image ID/alt in image, but it's also been duplicated below the cut for those that prefer it.

Blue scrambles words from time to time, and the results are usually entertaining to the rest of us.

Malapropism (noun): the usually unintentionally humorous misuse or distortion of a word or phrase, especially: the use of a word sounding somewhat like the one intended but ludicrously wrong in the context (Merriam-Webster Dictionary)