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Dear Diary,
I don't remember a time before Sips.
There must have been one. People don't suddenly burst into being on the shores of a fertile and virgin land, ready to build camps and forts and factories. I must have had a childhood. There must have been other friends. I must have had parents, a family, who loved me. At least, I'd like to think so. But I don't remember. All of my memories are of Sips and the people we've met together.
Sometimes I think I remember other worlds than this one. Other times. I am a ninja and Sips is there. I am a squire and Sips is there. I have killed waves of orcs and zombies and Sips is by my side, helping and laughing. I try not to think too much about it. These moments are so fragile and softly diaphanous that a single wisp of breath could break them forever. In my favourite dreams, I am an alien trapped in the furthest reaches of space. It's peaceful to float there in the starry void. With him. Despite my cruelties, Sips never leaves. And I am cruel. Cruel the way I could never be in reality.
And yet, what I am about to do is cruel. I need to go. I need to find out who I am without him. SipsCo belongs to Sips and always has. What is out there that can be mine alone?
***
Dear Diary,
It doesn't have a name yet, my new home, but so far I have built a sturdy house, a single bed, and a few simple tools. Despite the monsters, I feel a strong connection to the land here and I am largely at peace, though my heart still sometimes aches with fear and loneliness. Sips will understand my need for this, I'm sure. He always understood far more than he would ever admit. And perhaps he needs the time, too. Or perhaps I just say these things to ease my guilt.
I am going to build a farm here to grow crops and raise animals. I want to feed the world. To make it better than it was. We used to speak of nuclear bombs, of destroying, of winning, but we never really wanted those things. They were just words to fill the hungry silences. Now I can fill the hunger another way.
I often think about the end of the world. Is that a dream or a memory?
***
Dear Diary,
I harvested the wheat today – this good, simple stuff of the earth. It makes me think of Sips. I wonder how he fares with the dirt factory. He would have had no trouble finishing it without me. He is clever.
***
Dear Diary,
I think I'm beginning to understand. I am what he is not. What lies outside of Sips' vast boundaries is what little is left for me. Not a place but a space. Without Sips here to define my space, though, I'm beginning to blur.
I'm beginning to forget.
***
Dear Diary,
This is all I ever wanted. To help things live and grow. I have food enough for everyone now and yet I have failed. Failed at being myself, failed at knowing myself. Failed Sips.
I had intended on harvesting my cherry trees today. But when I went out there, the cherries had already been picked and stacked in the kitchen. The trees had been chopped down and replanted. I don't remember doing it. This is happening more and more now. Tears sprung to my eyes but I dashed them away. I don't deserve to cry.
***
Dear Diary,
When I woke this morning, I could not remember my name. It's not as frightening as it might seem. I had long since ceased to exist anyway, expanding and dissipating like smoke, as the sun continued its never-ending cycle through the sky.
There was a knock on my mahogany door.
'Sjin? You in there?'
I sat up. I knew that voice in the way that I knew nothing and everything. '…Sips?'
'Yeah. Let me in, you big jabroni.'
I opened the door and we stared at one another. He stood on the step looking haggard and nonchalant; his dark eyes were shuttered, but that was enough to give everything away. It was then that I finally understood. I had been so afraid of losing myself to him. Of getting absorbed in who Sips is and what Sips wants and how much room Sips takes up in the world. I was scared that there was nothing left for me. But as he fought to give me that familiar crooked grin that had always seemed so easy, I realized that he needs me, too. Without me to define the equally large part of the world that is Sjin, there is nowhere left for him to be Sips.
The reason I don't remember a time before Sips is because there was no time before Sips. There was no Sjin before Sips. There was no Sips before Sjin. We only exist together: the edges to each other's pieces.
I held the door open wider and smiled back. 'Are you hungry?'