Nine of Nine

Today (August 6th, 2011) has been a rough day. It shouldn't have been. It started off with great news, Frank had got a job interview. We talked about it and about what we were going to for the day, going out to eat etc. Yep, a great start to the day...

But I a little down today. Just a general "bleugh" feeling. Wasn't sure why. Frank asked me what was wrong (again) and I thought about it. Sometimes it helps when I have to voice it. I don't want to go home. I can't get the thought out of my head that I have to leave another couple of weeks. I don't want to keep thinking about it. I want the thought out of my head. I'm loving it here, I'm loving being with Frank. There's so much I'll miss if I leave England for good but right now I would leave it all behind for Frank. They remind me I'm coming back again soon, that it won't be for long. But it's not helping, I don't want to go. And it's upsetting me and I need to stop it, it's a great day, it's their day and I need to sort my shit out for them.

Skipping forward... A few hours go by, we're happy again. Showers and sex...

Afterwards they lay there, push away from me. They're not talking. I think I've done something wrong. I apologise. I beg them to talk to me, tell me what's wrong. They turn away from me. They're crying. I apologise. They won't look at me, won't even acknowledge me. I ask them if they want me to go and... nothing.
After a while they get up. They go to their laptop. I go over to them and they close the lid. I just catch a glimpse of something they're writing, I see the first line, simply says "Fuck you"; I don't know what to say. I put my arms around them. I'm told to leave them alone. To go away. "FINE!!"! I shout, "You win" and I head for the bedroom to get dressed. I want to get out. I've never shouted at them. I've never "given in" to them, not like that. Almost immediately I go over, apologising, begging forgiveness. "Just leave us alone, give us 30 minutes or something but just leave us alone" (nb: May not be exact wording). I head to the bedroom again, not to run away but to give them space. It's difficult, I could go out but we've discussed this and as they never know how much time they need it's not the best option. So I sit in the bedroom for 5-10 minutes before deciding I'm done with that. I get up but with nothing better to do I go to the kitchen and wash up. Slowly. At least I'm with them (the kitchen is one end of the main room, not separate).
It takes me about 20 ish minutes. When I'm done I'm clueless as to what to do. They are typing and crying. They have been this entire time. It's killing me. I want to go to them and hold them but I know I can't.

I go to the sofa and pick up my shorts and put them on. I don't know why, partly because I still feel I need to get out and then they're with me. They throw their arms around me "I'm sorry" they say, they're still crying. We stand there for a while, arms around each other, both crying, both apologising. I ask them why they're sorry and they say "for not telling you what's going on". Again I tell them it's ok, they don't have to apologise, I understand. And I do. I explain I know how difficult it is for them. How hard this is on them. I understand (mostly) what goes on in their head, how it can be hard for them to deal with me and with the others.

We sit back at the table. The first thing I do is check their blog to see if they have posted what it was they were writing and there it is ( http://just-call-me-frank.blogspot.com/2011/08/under-radar.html ). I read it. My fists clench, my hands cover my mouth; the words are devastating(? in a saddening way). As soon as I am done I double check that I'm reading it right, that the words aren't Frank's (or any of the others*) and I run to the kitchen. I burst into tears, hiding behind the fridge freezer desperately trying to stifle my crying, made easier by the fact I can't breath I'm so upset. "What have I done?" I ask myself. "What am I doing to them? Should I go? This is my fault. Maybe if I wasn't here they wouldn't have to go through this. It's. My. Fault". I have to stop this, I can't hide in here. I pull myself together, dry my face as best I can and go to them. They know I've read the post they know I've been crying, it doesn't matter. I go to them and pull them up out the chair. Again we're in each others arms, holding each other.
"You could have told me" I say. "No, if I said anything it would have come out, you would have got everything you read thrown at you. I had to keep it in. I didn't want you to hear it." "I love you for trying to protect me but you can't. It's not just about me, it's about you too. You have to do what's best for you too. I can take it, all that, I could have taken it. Yes I would have been upset and yes I would probably have shouted back but so what? Besides... a good argument does me good" I jest. "But it's not fair on you" "I would rather take all that than have you go through this again. Look what it's doing to you. Please, next time let them speak. It will be better. It's about you too, you have to protect you too" I let a "baby" slip and I cringe inwardly.

We talk about it a little more before they say they don't want to any more.

Later we talk about it being a crap day. I say even the bad days are good - "we should call them 'learning' days".

This angry alter is the ninth to be recognised. They haven't shared their name yet and Frank doesn't know much about them, why they are so angry etc. Frank is sure it's not Sam or another alter. I've called them "nine of nine" [don't need to go into detail any other meaning to that..]. Today (the 7th, the day after) they semi-jokingly call them Brooke "sounds like a bitches name" they say. I'm left wondering how that statement goes down inside the head. Can nine of nine hear that? I'm in almost awe of what Frank has to go through every minute of their day.

I said in a previous post that I blamed Cassandra for things that weren't her fault, I guess I know now who was responsible for some of the anger (outbursts) I've experienced lately.

As I said to them at the time, I still love them. Nothing changes that. I'm not going any where. They have nothing to be sorry for and nothing to feel ashamed or embarrassed about.

*When I refer to "Frank" there are times I mean "Frank Et Al" (as in, them as a collective) and times when I mean specifically the alter called Frank. I will try and clarify by adding the "et al" but won't always for one reason or another. You can try and work it out or not. Ask if you need me to clarify.

I wasn't going to publish this but they said I should. I was worried about the amount of conversation in it, it's a lot to share. I write these mainly for me and for Frank so that they can see things from the other side, to help them, to give them a better idea to what goes on. I can do that keeping it in drafts. But here you go.