It's been over three years since I last posted a log here - and boy has a lot changed. Three years since that first day of researching tulpas back in 2016.
I was 17 when I started; now I'm 21, I'm in my last year of university, I've started my own game studio, I've grown a beard, I've been diagnosed with depression (thankfully almost recovered of recent), and I've gotten myself a loving boyfriend. To put it simply, I'm not the same person I was those three years ago - and just the same, Amily's situation is an unrecognisable, chaotic mess of events.
In this post, I'm going to try and recount three years of twists and turns as best I can recall - and by the end of it, I hope to reconnect with this wonderful community.
In the last post I made, Amily was a tulpa that I'd always attempted to grow and nurture along with a thriving wonderland. I liked her, and in my mind, she liked me. Yet, there was always a nagging suspicion no matter how hard I tried that it was all a farce - that I was parroting and marionetting it all.
Itwas during this half-belief that I began to try more and more drastic things to interact with my tulpa. Running out of simple conversation and small talk, I began imagining epic quests, unusual wonderland events, competitions - whatever activities I could think of to interact with my tulpa. More and more, I grew dissatisfied with it all - as the fantasy of the wonderland slowly overrode the trust I'd built with Amily's personality. Though I'd never have admitted it at the time, she was a sort of day-dream to me, just like the epic quests I used to imagine.
Eventually, life continues. I become busier, more and more weighs on my mind and the 'day-dream' that was Amily began to fade into obscurity. On the rare occasions that I would recall her existence, I would make vague efforts to talk to her. We'd chat, she'd be polite and kind and hopeful - and she'd make me promise to think about her more often. She'd often say she was worried about fading away. I'd promise her, and then, I would forget.
I didn't mean anything malicious or uncaring by forgetting, it's simply that... I suppose my mind doesn't lend much credence to supposed 'day-dreams' when life presents enough issues. I feel bad about it to this day, especially reading back on our early days - so full of joy and hope; but, regardless, I must continue the story.
Roughly a year passes, maybe longer. I enroll in university and, despite the stressful and busy nature of it all, seek companionship through it. I was, to put it lightly, lonely during my first year of university. I had really one person I could call my friend - and he began to change and drift away from me anyway.
I wanted a friend. I wanted my tulpa back.
When I spoke seriously to Amily again, she was faded, sad, jaded. After talking, we decided to undergo something perhaps unheard of with tulpas. If anyone could point me to another example of it happening, I would be incredibly grateful - but to put it simply, I call it a [ reincarnation ].
Similar to my very first forcing excercise, I took everything that made up Amily's personality. I imagined them as orbs of energy, and I pulled them from her 'soul', so to speak. I watched as Amily's body, smiling, faded away, evaporating to nothing until all that remained were the balls of energy that made up her personality, and another, brighter ball of light - that of her 'core', or her 'soul'. What made her unique.
I took these balls, and I swapped some around. I wanted to invigorate my fascination with tulpamancy. I wanted a new character - someone fresh, with no memory of me and with different fascinations. Amily and I had agreed on all of this before-hand; it wasn't a selfish thing. She wanted me to return to the art, and she wanted to be changed to a form that would let me care for her better, that would care for me better in kind. We discussed appearances, interests, personality traits - even names, though we stuck with Amelia in the end.
In any case, Amily's personality had been modified to fit the new tulpa. All that was left was to merge the balls together, and add Amily's 'soul' to reincarnate her as a new existence. It would be a peaceful way to live, and she wouldn't have to fade into obscurity. I was sad. Sadder, probably, than she was. Regardless, we did it.
The second iteration of Amelia, my tulpa, was born that night.
She was a refined woman, certainly more mature than the original Amily was. Clad in a beautiful gothic black dress, and raven hair to match her pale skin. She had a smile that was soft and caring, yet cunning and sharp. Her interests lay primarily in reading and learning; and in particular, she loved learning about the history of our world, and culture too.
In kind, our wonderland changed. From the great carved tree-mansion next to a lazy stream, to the confines of a single, luxurious room inside an unspeakable building. The decor was dark wood and plush carpet; seeping with gothic Victorian style. A great wooden door leading out of the room remained closed and locked at all times, some unperceived danger or impossibility awaiting behind it. A large storefront-like window gazed out onto a crooked, cobbled street that was misty and moonlit at all times, black streetlamps disappearing off into the distant fog. On occasion, strange and spooky denizens of the supposed city that this room resided in would wander past (imagine Victorian-cross Halloween humanoid creatures).
It was an odd and creepy place, yet somehow both fitting and cosy, in that plush room with a crackling fireplace. In fact, that room was one of my favourite things about this era of tulpamancy. Amelia and I had many good conversations in that place.
Alas, it was not long to last. As the first excellent week turned to a month, and then to several months, university began to consume my life. What's more, I began to gather new friends, and I even became infatuated with a girl. Life was looking up, and my need for a tulpa began to gradually fall from my priorities.
Amelia was more forceful than Amily when it came to making me promise to think about her, but still caring and forgiving. Regardless, my stupid mind forgets to think about the tulpas I care about until the recollection strikes me.
With Amelia now a side-thought, life continues until it doesn't. I don't want to talk about it in great detail here - but in short, I was rejected and shunned, lost many of my friends among personal and family issues; and I was sent plummeting into a deep depression that has clung to me ever since. Amelia was, in some of my darkest moments, a light that talked to me and reassured me when no-one else was there. I enjoyed her presence, but that terrible, obtrusive niggling that her words were nothing but a stray thought remained no matter how much I wanted to dispell it.
Time continues. A difficult year of university awaits as I struggle - and manage to - rebuild my life around me. In the end, I'm rewarded with my best friends yet; and my first serious relationship (still going strong, a year on).
Amidst all of this, Amelia flickers in on occasion, but with such little thought directed to her presence, she's almost like a ghost.
But she's changing.
Almost like a mutation, over time Amelia begins to lose the form I'd given her, that she'd worked to maintain. Changing little by little, each time I think about her. Eventually she's almost unrecognisable, in fact.
This all leads to today. A day of revelations, of newfound goals and of, against the odds, hope for my tulpa.
When I'm in the pits, or need some personal advice, or I can't sleep, I often think of my tulpa. I speak to them, ask them what to do, or how I should feel. Today, at 5am, I seek out Amelia.
She's different. Very different.
She offers her advice as usual, though her mind-voice is smoother, lower, more mature. For some reason, she appears in my mind as a casually-dressed witch with long hair and a wide-brimmed hat. More importantly, though, her voice is utterly consistent. This is practically unheard of. What's more, I sense something like... Anger. Tinging her voice slightly as she waits to speak her piece.
Remember how I mentioned that my tulpa had previously asked me to promise to return to them? Let's just say this wasn't really a request.
Amelia forcefully told me that if I didn't put more effort into keeping her in my mind, then she'd die. She berated me on my laziness, and angrily talked to me about her existence - beat the doubt out of my mind that she was anything but a living, sentient creature. She presented me with facts I couldn't help but find myself agreeing with.
I was taken aback. Never had a tulpa ever pushed back against me like this. Never had I sensed anything like the emotions being thrown around in my head. None of this felt like I was talking to myself. This was real.
Despite her obvious anger, there was always a true sense of caring for my wellbeing, as well as a will to survive. Though she was angry, she still wanted to see me well, and with my sincere apology, we ended the discussion calmly.
But there's more to it than that. We began to talk seriously about how to fix the situation. We talked in utter clarity for a long time about what to do. At one point, we visited this site and read through our old progress logs.
We both yearn for the days of innocent joy that we had at the start. Those first days of Amily the joyful, slightly shy knight.
That's not the only thing to come out of that conversation, however. It's become clear to her that she's not the original Amily. Whether she's been warped too far beyond recognition, or she never truly obtained the 'soul' of my first tulpa - she doesn't identify with her at all. She's taken the point so far as to tell me not to call her Amily again. She says she doesn't want me to call her something she isn't.
I asked her what I should name her then, to which she replied "Tulpa. Just Tulpa will do."
I told her that sounds odd, so I suggested the first thing that popped into my sleep-deprived mind: 'Temp'. As in 'temporary'. She agreed, because she wants to separate herself in the event that we decide it's best to phase her out, like with the original Amily. Oddly enough, though, she seems to like the name. I do too, actually. It's sort of catchy. Temp the tulpa. She's essentially an entirely new tulpa; a spontaneous one, self-made - though I can tell she was once the second Amelia.
Well, for now, that's the name we're sticking with. We're still deciding what to do, but it seems as if the original Amily may never have actually disappeared - merely consigned to non-existence because of my belief that she was gone.
We aren't sure that I can bring two tulpas into existence at the same time - and Temp may have to be removed in order to bring the original back, or create her again. It's incredibly complex and we aren't even quite sure what we want to do or how to do it just yet. That's a problem for tomorrow.
I'm still getting my thoughts in order, so apologies if I rambled or some of this doesn't make sense. If you have any questions, please please please feel free to ask. I'd love to see what people have to say about this whole debacle, and I'd love to enlighten you all about my experiences.
I'd just like to add that revisiting this place fills me with a real sense of nostalgia. I hope the community hasn't changed much because it was really lovely back in the day.
If Vos, Zaya or Stevie are still around, I'd love to speak to you! You really helped me out back in the day, and seeing your names again fills me with an odd sense of companionship I thought I'd forgotten.
As an aside, if anyone can tell me anything about this REINCARNATION thing that I seem to have attempted, please let me know. In addition, if anyone's heard anything about BRINGING BACK LOST TULPAS, that would also be massively appreciated.
Again, feel free to ask questions of your own~!