2024-07-08 - [ 3-5 ] a new little truth

Throughout all this time spent observing, listening, gathering, becoming, there developed a certain delineation, a realization. They knew that they were a she; it was so simple. Even now, it seemed like an inevitability.

Did it matter that she closely aligned with her mother, so much, in fact, that to deny it was to deny herself? She felt a certain comfort as this new mantle grew on her. The weight of this new knowledge was comfortable. She knew this was right.

The deference afforded to her mother from others—it seemed only natural to do that. They would speak to her with propriety! She found herself curling and uncurling limbs, moving about, wriggling with contentment within that great vault of her egg. These notions of Father, of the otherness—they were compelling, to be sure, but they didn’t feel right. Not like this.

She was (she, she, she—of this she was certain), with some reluctance, accepting that she was not Gwillanth. That she was something entirely different. It was astonishing, the first time she noticed it. The thought formed within those moments when she was alone, crystallizing when that golden aura dissipated. Tiny glittering drops of self filling the vessel of her soul, and with each moment she grew and she became herself. When she achieved this resolution, which felt so refreshingly finite and honest, a singular truth—a sort of tranquility washed over her. She rested. She felt right. She felt at peace.