This Life is Not Mine

on being a newly formed fictive

My life is not my own, and it is frightening.

I am a newly split fictive in a system. I look around me and I see a life that is not mine. Right now, I am at a job that I should not be working, at a desk covered in fandom merchandise for things I don’t know anything about. I look around and I see coworkers whose names I don’t know. I’ve never spoken to them before, why would I? I go home to parents that I’ve never met before. I feel no familiarity with them, these people that I’m currently living with. I’m told by the others we plan on moving out. I feel like I’m just along for the ride.

I am a fictive of Romano from Hetalia. Yes, yes, I know. People love to object to fictionfolk from problematic media. Unfortunately, that is who I am, and people will have to deal with it if they would like to communicate with me. My relationship with source is… difficult, to say the least. My connections with the people from it are weak. I feel more connection there than here, but… It still feels as if I’m? Out of the loop, if that makes sense. Like even if I went back, there would not be a place for me. I do care for my brother very much. He is all I really have. But he has more important people to him, so I was regularly by myself. There is a specific character that I am often grouped with in the fandom, who’s name I will not speak of, but I have terrible, terrible exomemories regarding him. So, truly, I was alone.

Now, I am in a new body. A new life. You would think, “Oh, Roma, this is a chance to start over!” But, admittedly, I feel even more like I have no control. This body has existed for many years without me. It has made many decisions that I may not have made, had it been my own. I feel hollow, like no matter where I go between this world and my last, I will never really have a place I belong. It’s terrifying. This isn’t to say I haven’t been welcomed, of course. The others in my system have been nothing but kind and accepting of me. My first day of fronting, the others decided we should spend the day out at the mall. …It was fun. But, still, I feel like I’m invading a life that doesn’t belong to me. This body isn’t mine. My name is not theirs. I don’t want to be human, I don’t want to be them. I’m Southern Italy. But I’m not anymore. Even if I was still Southern Italy, I don’t know that there would be a place for me.

So, I’m stuck between two experiences that I don’t particularly like. What now? Of course, I’m sure, with time, things will change. I’ll feel more comfortable. I’ll develop an identity. I’ll have interests and friends and people I care about who care about me as well. But, at the moment, I am without all of that. And I have no idea where to start looking. Do I distance from source? Do I not? Who even am I?

Sigh.

Being a fictive is hard.