That’s what scares the hell out of me, even now when little matters; in a way, I am thousands, perhaps millions of different people. They, or perhaps more accurately we, coexist and are only marginally aware of each other. Physically, they probably inhabit the major portions of our brain for which science cannot divine specific purpose. There is an apparent line of demarcation separating the two--a zone we cannot normally cross. Perhaps this is part of the instinct for self-preservation; without it, we’d go insane. In my case, my partners-in-self broke through in a manner I can’t understand, much less articulate. But I know that they managed to bend the rules, not break them; whatever kink in my psychic armor allowed them through does so only at the level of the subconscious, when my defenses are lowered. They can’t reach me in a state of wakefulness, although I sometimes feel them reaching out when my mind wanders or when I feel myself drifting off into sleep. The separation between the two minds seems clear from my counterparts’ intense interest in, and lack of knowledge about, matters with which I am intimately familiar, such as current events.

Perhaps that is the reason for our need to sleep--a sort of tradeoff to the others within us. The subconscious, from my experience, seems to function on the level of memory. It can allow its inhabitants only an imperfect sense of self, and then only when it is able to independently function over the watchful eye of the conscious mind. It’s common knowledge that there is no scientific explanation for our need to sleep. Yet I’ve always needed more sleep than most; perhaps that is because my subconscious mind is stronger than the norm, and my conscious mind is proportionately weaker. In that way, my subconscious demands a greater portion of time in which to assume an active role in our mind-sharing relationship.

My experience also gives me some insight into what makes certain people highly creative, and why there seems to be a notable correlation between elevated levels of creativity and mental instability. Highly creative people tend to be less stable than the norm; they appear to be more susceptible to both mental illness and addiction disorders. Perhaps the reason is that a strong subconscious allows them access to a sort of collaborative effort as they share the input of consciousnesses not their own. But that is a dangerous and equivocal communion. A thin line separates genius and madness, and I feel certain from what I’ve seen of the others within me that there are forces of both good and evil, the best and worst of all who’ve lived before seem to be represented. The effect is that the extremes cancel each other out and a sort of ethical nihilism appears to prevail and guide the processes of that huge mind pool. The sense of self, however, is strong within the individual parts that form the whole, and seeks an outlet.

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Therein lies the greatest danger, and there the root of my undoing. Unless the conscious mind is strong, which mine apparently is not, the subconscious can encroach upon it as it seeks to perfect its splintered sense of identity into a more recognizable form. Generally, this happens when a strong part of the subconscious takes control. In my case, however, there is clearly a joint effort involved; I will not be “possessed” by one or several dominant individual identities who could push back my own identity into the subconscious. Rather, my own conscious mind will be shared by all, to everyone’s benefit but mine.

I am too tired to much care that what I have said will doubtless sound insane. I know I can’t hold out much longer against the others’ power. I feel myself being pulled in and am too drained to resist much longer. My mind is clear, but I know it’s only quickly burning itself out, a lifetime of psychic energy used up in a few weeks of futilely trying to dam up the irresistible incoming tide. I feel myself floating, even as I write these lines. I’m losing consciousness; time is slowly dilating as my senses ebb away.