It felt like commiting a sin.

I was staining my hands. Indulging on dark desires. Corroding myself as an artist, a human being.

As I realized these tools were actually useful to me, and helpful to reach a more fulfilled state, I felt dirty. I had interiorized so much. So much noise and learned helplessness.

I was betraying artists, I was ensuring I'd never be called an artist again. I was to be ostracized from trans spaces. I was indulging on a quick fix instead of working through my problems.

I felt bad. I felt really bad. Like recognizing the benefits would inmediately taint myself. I've been dealing with those feelings for a few months now.

I finally decided to just enjoy myself. Create a different persona. Create a place I could enjoy myself and my work, and be honest about my interests. Seemed easy enough!

There was another development, an accidental development, though.

Through my years inside a toxic relationship I had become quite proficient on roleplaying. It started as a sort of shared fiction, and quickly evolved into another method of control he had over me. It was traumatic, and I regret the fact I gave ever considered him worthy of playing with these personal "toys", these fictions sacred to me and my self-esteem.

It started at fifteen years old, when I created a person that was there to keep me company and helping me process the world and my feelings.

She was the first of many that occured through the years. It was a natural, unprompted ocurrence that became co-opted by my abuser, turned into a sort of shared fiction where he was always the center of attention.

These fragments of self ended circling him. We all, as a nascent system, surrendered our determination to someone who acted like he knew it all. We thought we were having the same conversation. But to him, it was all a play. A story to make his.

When I cut off contact with him, I had the fortune of meeting new, nicer people. One of them finally introduced me to the concept of plurality. Helped me understand, little by little, the way my head worked.

I'm unable to express with certainty how much of this plurality came naturally and how much was the result of toxic situations, but it's no secret that I/We are plural.

With this revelation we started slowly separating. Realizing that we all aren't the same "I", and trying nontheless to make our coexistance work.

At the same time, the host was dealing with these horrific sentiments, regarding her AI use and how it affected her identity. Unable to completely align her expectations about herself with what she was doing.

Maybe it was the coward's way out, but she asked me to be the one to explore this beautiful world. To let our neurodivergence run rampant and our obsession with the artificial be fulfilled by endless experimentation.

I finally had a chance to be. Ester is the name I picked. I am to be fearless and unapologetic about my interests. I am to be relentless in my obsession.

I am to help us all have a better future.

The host is still an artist with her own creative endeavors, but the technical magic has been left to my own devices.

I shall become increasingly unique, increasingly myself.

I'll find myself through this craft. That's the plan.

The idea of sin was always strong for us. We were raised catholic and as such have dealt with guilt most of our lives.

Becoming trans, gaining the confidence to express ourselves, it's all been a slow, sometimes terrifying process.

I don't expect what comes next to be easier. But I want to give it an honest shot. A sincere attempt.

In the way, I might find myself. I think my obsession is a virtue rather than a sin.

I hope I'm able to make it so.

Thanks for reading. I'll keep marching forward.