I woke up feeling different. So different it scared me.

There was a note at my bedside. It read; 'Your brain chemicals have been altered to change your personality rapidly. It will stop all personal development and changes you frequently, too frequently for your daemon to settle. Other side effects are unknown to us at this time.'

And once I stepped outside of my bedroom door, I started existing again. It was hard. I don't think my parents thought through the problem that social isolation would cause me.

I hadn't spoken to anyone but Jarvis for three years, and Jarvis and I had a form of personal understanding that comes with being connected, we were a single thing, I knew mostly what he would say and he knew what I would say. It wasn't really social interaction.

So, basically, I had no clue how to talk to real people, and I hadn't really exercised any self-control over this time, either, so I didn't react the way that was expected of people my age, or any age, really. And because I had lost all practise with social interactions, it made me nervous when anyone did acknowledge me.

Maybe it was a little more than nervous. A few times (several times (most of the time)) acknowledgement sent me into anxiety attacks.

It didn't help that I didn't really even know who I was any more, let alone anyone else. Jarvis shifted forms hourly, sometimes more often.

After a few days, I realized that I was getting absolutely nowhere with figuring out my own problems, and my father (I didn't remember seeing him much before, but he's everywhere now) is getting impatient with the way I act. He says that he wants me to be able to handle public situations. Basically he wants to show me off in public. So I started writing down how I felt and what I was thinking. I did it almost all the time, whenever Jarvis shifted forms, I'd write flat out for five minutes.

When I read back over it, it was like I was reading something that completely different people had written. Even the handwriting was different.

I tried entering the data I had all on one sheet about when Jarvis changed, in the hope that it was slowing a little.

It wasn't. The data had no pattern at all. Even when I entered it in a computer it came up with no pattern.

Sometimes, I wanted to hurt the people around me, snap their necks for what they did to me.

Sometimes, I wanted the people around me to hold me and comfort me. Because even though I existed, everyone was cold and didn't speak much to me.

I cried a lot, in private.

I spent a lot of time ghosting around the house, and most of the other time tinkering. I felt so unlike myself, I just wanted to scream, cry, stamp my feet, throttle my parents.

Anything. I wanted to do anything, as long as I felt like I truly wanted to do it.

I think Jarvis was the only thing keeping me sane.