Sylvanna Devlin

This is by who? Oh pick a name, the original, the real, the actual, no really I’m the real original actual and I know the last four digits of my mother’s social security, no really I’m Keith Devlin’s Daughter, no really. I… am clearly a victim of what? Method acting and a few creative embellishments?

No one else wants to be Katherine of Aberdeen because I use it in a book. I could use that. How about I am Melissa Jane Devlin, but you can call me Sylvanna.

I was that fucking Sylvanna everyone took liberties with and this book and three weeks in the hospital was literally the only reason I was sticking around. Everyone worked so hard including the surgeon who saved my life, I can’t let them down now. Besides the real Iris is interested now.

Though now I want a psychology degree and my sister reminded me that I matter separately from being “twiddle pecked”. I have a better reason to cling to life.

Currently from what I can tell everyone thinks I (or we?) were conditioned into being me. Sure, yeah, why not? Because it’s possible everyone else was. But only one of us was the real, actual, original, previously known as etc, so forth. And capable of understanding the earthly world and going into arrhythmia after that. So maybe just maybe this is actually being written by one person and it’s not even that unlikely someone high up saved me because it was one step closer to saving the world. Just maybe someone no one likes but everyone needs.

Or maybe Iris sent a surgeon. Hence my attachment to a Goddess no one knows. But summons a power greater than all of my previous pieces. Fuck yeah. Melissa Devlin is a regular person, Sylvanna is an angel with fae blood existing in the same body. Iris is a fucking goddess! Weird enough for you?

All the ways chosen to discredit, undermine, and steal from me were so vicious so intense there had to be something there. And I’m one smart cookie who. Not that I know the odds of who is saving who off the top of my head, because I’m still recovering from the complications and precursor pain from one hell of a suicide attempt. Week in a coma style. Don’t do that. They will save you. And it will be permanently changing.

The slight rattling in the chest, top left above the breast? We may want to pay attention to because this world is killing us. Frankly if a computer picked me to kill off (As one of the nuttier theories I had) I’d want to find out why. My obsession with Hope probably did it.

What I do I know about this shell game of steal and share, identity theft, gaslighting, torture, rape, and more! It’s weird. What I can say of all that, is no one goes into arrhythmia because they’re writing a book. And no one lives in that shadow world if they can avoid it.

The disbelief in who I was and encountered everywhere was the real reason I had a “fine, fuck you bye” kind of death. Whose last words were “Is my cat okay?” With the last thoughts “No one listens, forget this.” Boom.

You may have tried listening after I woke but I can tell you just plain fucking didn’t believe me anyway. You’d either heard it all before. Or it seems impossible that any of my history could be real.

It’s fucking real.

Depending on what you heard

I actually chose death twice. When I sent the ambulance away and swallowed a whole lot more pills. That didn’t work

Then I gave up on humanity entirely and willed myself to unbalance my heart, and fell asleep permanently as far as I planned. But not the gods. All I can hear right now is “wait, she willed herself into arrhythmia? Fuck her.” And “Why did we bother saving her?”

Because that’s what you say about someone who swallowed enough in a combination that should have been fatal. Like how serious do you want me to get? I chose death twice in one shot, and He basically said “not yet”. So science saved me.

Thus now, the writer, known as Melissa Jane Devlin, known as Sylvanna AKA Nectaria, Katherine, Michael Weaver, Eli, Nepenthe.. oh never mind I got bored. I’m also a convenient spot for an actual goddess thank you very much. If I need to be I am Iris. Do I need to?

Sometimes, yeah. But I think we all do.

I’m also Tabitha’s mom.