June 2026 - Vol. 23, Issue 3

i knew this was fucked from the very start.

my first memory (deduced through traces left in the rest, the broken toys and spiteful recountings) was being ordered to watch my baby sister while our mother showered. i was dumped into her crib (a scene that was quite beneath me, as a four-or-five-year-old) and left with the tacit understanding this was my duty. as the eldest. the least-favorite. my value was only in protecting the perfect one. too young to disobey or form opinions.

i knew i wasn’t sane from the very start.

i was aware of how families were supposed to work, from books and tv. people my age only made their own decisions when accompanied by magical, talking creatures. fozzy bear and tigger were with us in the crib. but their heads were too full of stuffing for advice and songs. they could be dangerous, the adult within me warned. the baby could smother herself and stop breathing. or something. the warm voice stood be(hind/tween) my shoulder blades. it would take over if things went wrong. but it probably couldn’t do much tho. there was no way it knew things i couldn’t. baby cpr or whatever. i was four or five, okay? someone had to be the adult. it was the best i could do.

i knew i was defective from the very start.

i don’t recall my first moments in existence (no one does). (allegedly). but i kept being reminded how i was practically dead when i was finally evicted from the womb. my obstinance was a core character trait since i was negative one months old lol. my sister had an apgar score of nine btw. but only because the doctor said they never give babies a perfect ten. so my sister had to be imperfect. despite all the doctors saying how perfect she actually was. it took over a decade of ivf to make me. my sister is three years younger. so she wanted to be born five times more than i did. or something. i could have been in high school by now. driving a car or going to college. but how the fuck was i supposed to know shit would be this bad before i was even born???

i knew i wasn’t all there from the very start.

my second memory (placed by googling american air dates) was looking at a photograph from last year’s halloween. i was the pink power ranger. because i loved that show. allegedly. i’ve never even seen that show. so what the fuck. i must have been five. four in the photo. i recalled that people don’t keep memories of their childhood. all memories “made” in this tender age were inherently temporary. or something. so this made sense. that’s why i could never remember what i had for breakfast or dinner or the names of any of my classmates. uh, that’s not how that works, the inner adult said. but what did it know. it was stuck in the same stupid useless brain as me.

i knew this was wrong from the very start.

i...woke up? idk. in the principal’s office. i was just there in the big chair. no memory how i got there. no explanations. (and asking would make me look crazy. so i didn’t). he said i'd told him i had something very important to share. i suddenly knew this was cause someone ditched me (and they’re a big scaredy-cat and can’t fight the fights they always started). so now it’s my problem. and something was really, really wrong with me. can you get alzheimer’s at six or eight. i was supposed to be good with words and lies. it’s all i'm known for. but the part of me sitting in that chair wasn’t actually. i said that the other kids didn’t want to play with me. or something. the principal got mad. so nothing changed. but at least i wouldn’t need to learn how to deal with new kinds of badness. so that was good. probably.

i knew i wasn’t normal from the very start.

i still had an imaginary friend in elementary school. i re-envisioned the same story in my head dozens of times to put myself to sleep. year after year. i saved the big fights with the villain for my birthday or christmas. i always had that to look forward to. sometimes i'd picture a lone, silver dragon circling a lone, distant mountain when the cold or pain or hunger got too bad. a dragon couldn’t feel these things. a dragon doesn’t know what broken water heaters or lunch money or foreclosure notices are. then i didn’t have to. for at least a little bit.

i knew they were lying from the very start.

i was much older (but still rly fucked up) when they “officially” appeared. the alabaster revealed himself in starlight when i was meditating (i couldn’t afford therapy, okay). are you my spirit guide, i asked. yeah, sure, he said. then the carmine appeared behind him in fiery waves. she said, and i am here to make sure he behaves. i don’t think that’s how this works, i said. aren’t spirits supposed to be all knowing. or something. or something, the alabaster agreed. the carmine smoldered.

i knew we weren’t strangers from the very start.

we dug through my memories together. i wanted to find when my “spirits” were with me. then they fessed up to not really being spirits (no shit). the carmine had been watching us in the crib. did our laundry. used the phone. the alabaster threatened the other kids with tattling to the principal. told most of the lies that’d got us in trouble. but neither remembered watching power rangers. or flunking job interviews. or would break down when the bus inexplicably went down a different street. so there were more of us. they’d been struggling without help cause they thought they were alone. but they never had been.

from the very start.