Work Text:
In my short years of life, I am certain that I know many things. I know that skin is the largest organ I have. I know a day on Venus is longer than a year. I’ve learned every philosophy and religion because I need a purpose, an answer on why I am the way I am. I’ve never fit in before. If I am the most certain about one thing, it’s that I don’t know who I am.
Turns out, finding out my best friend who I always called a goat for beating me at Uno so many times is actually a goat- no wait, satyr opens up a whole new route in my journey of self discovery. This is probably weird, but I couldn’t help but feel relieved after Blanche revealed that all those Greek myths aren’t actually myths. I assume the average person would feel shocked, in denial, but I couldn’t help but feel relieved. I almost found my answer. What in my life was worth staying for anyways? My dad? No, he would be sad about my leaving but find yet another freshly turned 18 bimbo in a matter of months to distract him. Maybe we are similar in that way, finding things to fix an endless void engraved into our hearts.
What I’m most concerned about is that my mother is apparently a Greek goddess. Blanche told me that there is a place that I could finally call home. Finally have a place to lay down all my emotional baggage in. She said that I will fit right in to Camp Half Blood. (When I first heard this name, I thought she had just said a slur and ‘’wow Blanche, really didn’t expect you of all people to be racist,’’ but I assure you this isn’t the case) After fighting and struggling my whole life for my flaws not to be leaking out of me and be the first thing people see when they look at me, I should’ve felt happy. Validated. Serenity. But I felt robbed of the strange identity bestowed upon me that I have grown to accept like a childhood coat adorned with strange stains and my grandmother’s mediocre stitches to fix the broken parts. But you can cover up the broken all you want, layer after layer, but you’ll know it's there. This part was strange to me, now that I can be in conformity with a group, why do I wish for individuality?
I should be happy. And I am, really. Now I know that I’m not being driven insane by ‘’hallucinations’’ and that I most likely will not be doing something brass like cutting off my ear. I should feel glad for such an opportunity. But I feel like I’m going more insane than ever. This feeling of insanity is a feeling I have been enveloped in and cradled in my whole life. I am doubtful if I will truly fit in at such a place. I wouldn’t consider myself smart, agile, sneaky, or really any traits that a demigod must possess for survival.
Even after interrogating Blanche for hours (I really don’t know how she puts up with me) I have yet to understand Camp Half Blood. She says that I can never really understand until I experience it for myself. To that, I say empathy is the rawest and purest emotion. Whatever Camp Half Blood (gosh, they should really change that name, misunderstandings and miscommunication probably happen too often) has in stock for me, I hope that I can find a piece of myself there. Maybe even leave my mark.