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Who are you?
It's a question that's been nagging at you for a while. Ever since you left the loops. Sooner, too, really, but you try not to think about that time.
You are… Siffrin. You like malanga fritters. You have one eye, and light hair that you used to dye black. You wear a coat, a very comfortable one, that you brought with you from your country. And you love your family, of course. Like this, there are things that can characterize you.
But what does any of that mean? What does it matter?
Who cares, if all you're made up of is these superficial attributes? Anyone could do the things you do, say the things you say, look the way you look.
How much of you is real, and how much is just who you think you should be?
You've been getting a little better recently, bit by bit. The numbness that's plagued you since the loops is fading gradually, getting replaced by real emotions again.
…You think they're real. You say they're real.
Are they real?
You don't know. You don't know anything about yourself, not really. You're almost temped to ask your family members about who you are. The things you should be doing and feeling in order to be Siffrin.
But that would be strange, wouldn't it? You'd sound insecure, pathetic. Insane.
Or, worse… maybe they'd think you're a total narcissist. That you're just asking to get them to say nice things about you.
…You’re terrified of making them think bad things about you. You don't think you could handle that.
Your family members are your only tether to this world. They're what make you feel like, sometimes, life is still worth living.
But aren't they bored of you?
You would be bored of you. No, you are bored of you.
You think, really, that you're just a hollow shell by now. Just a little puppet, or a doll, getting manipulated by fingers that move you according to how you should move because there’s nothing remaining of your own personality anymore. There's nothing about you that's original.
…You remember that you used to have a sense of humor. You used to joke all the time with Isabeau, laugh at his jokes, and then be unable to hold back giggles at your own, too. But you're not funny anymore.
You're not nice, either. Not really. You were never a saint, you know that, but you used to be kinder. More considerate. Now you have to work even to get a smile on your face most of the time, and you have to make the conscious decision to help people out with things.
…Fake. You're so fake.
Yes, you know by now. The real Siffrin is long gone.
Siffrin died maybe ten loops into your journey. You lost hope, loop after loop, and then when you ran out of hope to lose, you just lost pieces of yourself instead.
Until you ended up like this. Unfeeling, uncaring, unlovable. Empty.
And you think that they're all just pretending to accept you like this. You really think that's it.
They're clinging onto the old Siffrin. They miss him so much, and they can't cope with the fact that he's faded away, so they just pretend.
When they look at you, do they see your old smile? Does your old image flash through their minds when they see you, before they remember yet again that you're different now?
Do they miss the old Siffrin very much? Does it hurt them?
Should you try harder to be that person again?
The thought of it makes you feel sick. It makes you want to run away, because you don't know how to be that person again. You don't know how to be anyone anymore.
But… you have to do it. Right? For everyone else's sake. Who cares if it's hard on you to keep up a façade like that? Who would this little bit of hardship ever affect but you, if you kept it to yourself?
Because you need to pretend in order to be normal. To pass as real. Because you’re not alive, not as a real person. Not after everything you’ve gone through, continually sucking out everything you had to take. You just exist.
You exist, and there's nothing more to it, and that's wrong. You can’t just be something. You have to be someone to have value.
You've been told all your life that there's no better time to start than the present. So why not try it starting now?
Today, you wake up and you plaster a jubilant smile on your face as you greet everyone. You think they look a little disturbed, a little hesitant to return your greetings. Why?
Maybe they’ve actually felt this way towards you ever since the loops, and you just never paid attention to it. You have to try harder.
You go around and you try to help everyone out as much as you can. You see Mirabelle sewing up a hole in her tent, and you rush over to hold the patch in place. You notice Bonnie cooking dinner, and you take the knife from them to help them cut the vegetables. You run into Odile taking inventory and you help her sort the materials.
You’re being so helpful. You’re so much better this way, aren’t you?
What else are you missing?
Humor. A sense of humor. You used to be a good source of comic relief. You need to find Isabeau and joke around some more, to prove to him that you can still be fun. That you’re still worth keeping around.
You find him sitting by the river. Fishing? Yes, it looks like he’s fishing. You settle down beside him.
Isabeau’s eyes light up when he catches sight of you. “Sif!”
Isa’s name sticks in your throat and you don’t quite feel like goofing around. But you force yourself, because you’re no fun if you’re always gloomy and serious. This is for him.
“…Isa!”
But Isabeau doesn’t react like you hope he will. He doesn’t continue with your usual banter. He just smiles a little and moves on. “So, what’s up, Sif?”
He hasn’t often messed around with you since the loops, but you’re sure he misses it. He must feel like he’s walking on eggshells as he constantly tries to regulate his own energy for your benefit. But you don’t need him to do that. You can be normal.
…Were you not energetic enough just now? Was that why he still didn’t do it? Or does he just not like you anymore? Is he tired of you, even now that you’ve gone back to your old self?
Were you actually… just annoying, in the first place? Does he really prefer that you’re quiet and nonreactive now?
You don’t feel like hanging out with him anymore. You don’t think he’d care if you left.
“Nothing, really,” you reply. And you make yourself smile, because you think it’s appropriate. “I was just wondering where you were.”
Isabeau grins. “Well, you found me! Is… something going on back at camp that I should be there for? Is it dinner time?”
“No.”
That’s all you say, and then you turn right back around to leave. You know you were too blunt. Too concise. But you don’t care that much anymore, even as you feel Isabeau’s eyes boring into your back.
You don’t know what to do. But maybe you’re thinking too hard. Maybe you’re reading too much into Isabeau’s reactions.
This is Isabeau, after all. He’s so kind, and you know he’d accept you no matter what.
…You hope he would. You hope so.
You get back to camp, and you’re feeling a little discouraged. Isabeau’s reaction… and thinking back on it, everyone’s reactions were a bit strange. Like they were confused. Like maybe they didn’t like what you were doing. Was it too abrupt of a change? Are they suspicious?
You spend some time alone in your tent. You think maybe it will help refresh you. Maybe you’re just anxious to be interacting with your family members normally again, and it’s making you overthink things. Yeah.
Bonnie calls you out for dinner after a while, and you put on a refreshing smile as you walk over to where everyone else is already seated.
Everyone looks over at you, and you sit down beside Isabeau. They’re all talking quietly amongst themselves, and it takes you a moment to realize that you should probably take part in this conversation, so you have a purpose for being there rather than to just sit like a statue and shovel food into your mouth. So you start to listen.
“Chicken? Wow, where’d you get the chicken, Bonbon?” Isabeau asks.
Bonnie beams. “An old lady from the nearby village gave it to me!”
Odile frowns. “She gave you a… whole chicken?”
“Yep!”
Mirabelle clasps her hands with a giggle. “That’s so kind of her! Were you sure to thank her?”
Bonnie nodded despite looking indignant. “Of course I did!”
“A whole chicken,” Odile muttered, sighing down at her food. “Well…”
Oh? She’s looking over at you now. Why are you getting a bad feeling about this?
“Not to dampen the mood or anything, but since you’re here again, Siffrin… What’s going on with you today?”
Everyone looks at you. Fuck. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Odile continues, “All of a sudden, your personality’s done a 180. What’s that about?”
“Yeah,” Bonnie cuts in. “You elbowed your way into my cooking today, and you keep doing that weird smile!”
Weird smile? You take note of your facial expression, and you realize that you’re smiling right now. Does it look weird? They don’t like it when you smile?
“Siffrin,” Mirabelle says, a little more gently. “I think we’ve all been worried about you today. You're acting… unusual, so we just want to know what’s going on.”
…Unusual? Are you being really weird by doing all of this?
But, you’re… you’re trying so hard. You’re trying to be normal. You’re trying to be your old self.
Yet they still don’t like you! You still don’t belong!
Did they never like your personality in the first place, then? In their eyes, are you better as this kind of blank slate? An empty shell who will go along with everything they do and never get in the way? Who will never say stupid things? Who will never make horrible jokes? Who will never meddle in their affairs and mess everything up, as you’re always so prone to doing?
Why are you here, then? Why do you stay? What’s the point?
If you’re just going to mess everything up, why do they let you stay?
Horrible. It’s horrible how now, the only things you really feel in much depth are the things you don’t want to feel. When was the last time you were truly carefree? Truly happy with the way things were? It was before those damned loops.
“What should I do, then?” you ask. Your voice doesn’t mirror your emotions. It’s flat, blank, cold, but you don’t mean to be cold. “How do you want me to act? Who do you want me to be?”
“Who…? Siffrin, we just want you to be yourself,” Mirabelle says. “You shouldn’t force yourself to act a certain way. We understand.”
“But I’m trying to be myself. I’m not forcing anything,” you argue. “This is how I was before. How I’ve always been. Why don’t you like it?”
“Calm down, Siffrin,” Odile warns, and you feel a surge of indignation. You are calm. You’re very calm, and you know exactly what you’re doing! So why do they hate it? Why do they hate you?
“I’m just trying to be normal! Isn’t that what you want?” Your voice cracks, and you curse yourself for it. “You haven’t been happy with me since the loops ended, I can tell! I’ve changed since then, so I’m just trying to change back! I just want you all to be—“
“Who says we’re not happy with you, Sif?” Isabeau cuts in, and you don’t believe his words. You can’t, you can’t, because you know how to read them. You’ve seen how they feel.
“I can just tell, okay? So, why… Why do you keep me around? If you don’t like me when I’m all depressed, but you don’t like me when I’m normal either, then why?”
Nobody says anything for just a moment, but it’s enough for you. You know how they feel, you know, you know, you know. You storm off, leaving your dinner behind, and you barricade yourself back in your tent.
You hate this. But you don’t hate them, because you understand how they feel. You hate yourself too, after all.
…You want to cry. You don’t let yourself, because this is your fault.
Nobody follows you, not for a while. You don’t know how long it’s been, as you’re alone in your tent huddled up with your blankets, but someone does come after a stretch of time.
“…Sif.”
It’s Isabeau.
“Go away, Isa.”
You hear rustling, and his silhouette lowers itself down to the ground in front of your tent. “I want to talk. Just hear me out.”
Stars, he’s so stubborn. You don’t have a choice but to let him.
“So… what does ‘normal’ mean to you, Siffrin?”
You’d mentioned to them all earlier that you were trying to be normal. What a foolish slip of the tongue. “I mean… being normal means being the way I was before the loops. Being the real me, rather than… whatever it is I am now.”
Isabeau is quiet for a few beats. “But, Sif… even if you’re a little different, we like you as you are now, too.”
“You don’t,” you say. “You can’t. There’s nothing good about me anymore.”
“Why do you say that, Sif? You’re still the same person.” You can hear the frown in his voice. His acting skills seem better than they used to be.
You shake your head. “I’m not. How can you say I’m the same? There’s nothing left of the Siffrin you use to know. I’m broken, and empty.”
“That’s not true!” Isabeau exclaims. “Sif… we all understand. You went through a lot of trauma with the loops. We don’t even know all of it, but it was obviously really hard for you. Harder than we could imagine, so… none of us blame you for the way you are.”
“But you don’t like it.”
“We like you just the same,” Isabeau replies without missing a beat. “You’re part of our family, Siffrin. You always have been. A little bit of hardship won’t bring anything between us, I promise.”
You still don’t get it. You still don’t understand.
But you’re tired of this. You’re tired of hearing him lie to you.
So you say, “Okay. Thank you.”
Because you are grateful, you really are. He’s being sensitive and kind, like he always is, even though you’re like this. He’s such a good person.
“Of course, Sif,” is Isabeau’s earnest reply. “We love you, and we’re always here for you. Okay?”
“Yeah.”
He lingers for a few seconds, then walks away at last. You curl onto your side and bury your face into your blankets.
You’re hopeless.