His therapist wants to understand his DID, so has encouraged him to explain as much as possible about each of his alters. So with an inaudible sigh, he flips open his notebook and after scribbling the date, begins to write about his first alter, or at least the one he noticed first.

Flaire: First noticed when I was fourteen. She's got long dark red hair, blue eyes, she's slender, attractive. She's a lesbian, through and through. Extremely sexual. Though it really seems more about the chase and the sex, than actually being with whomever it is. She's in her mid twenties.
She has a British accent, though she was French born. She was taken from her family at a young age to become a child prodigy on the violin. She played for court in Britain. It was around the 1300-1400s. She was killed because of a jealous woman. The woman thought Flaire was sleeping with her husband, when in reality, she was sleeping with the man's sister. It was a dagger to the back.

Bo: Second noticed shortly after Flaire, maybe around fifteen. She has long blond hair, green eyes, and she's even smaller than Flaire. Tall though. She died in the 70s. She had anorexia, but people never noticed, they just thought she was thin from running track and playing volleyball. She was only seventeen when she died. A hit and run. They never found out who did it or anything. She didn't party, like everyone else. She's rather child-like, cuddly, sweet, and all of those squishy things. She's typically smiling.

Ruby: Third to become aware of, probably around fifteen as well. Long black hair, pale skin, clear blue eyes. She was in her mid twenties when she died. In an alternate reality, she was an assassin. She died on a job. She shouldn't have died. She killed the one who killed her, but she still died because of the poison on the dagger. She's a sadist, simply for the sake of being one. She doesn't care who she hurts or even if she hurts them. She's cold and generally uncaring. Angry.

Drew: Fourth to become aware of, twenty. Short black hair, blue eyes, lean slightly muscular. He's a romantic. Always the peace-maker, or at least trying to be. He died in the 90s. He wears his heart on his sleeve. He's sweet and all of that.

Gaara leaned back from his writing. That seemed to be everything...
His gaze drifted to the window. He wondered, were the meds he was currently taking affecting him or just them? It's not like he was out enough to notice a change in his depression. But if the others didn't have depression, how would they even affect them? For all intents and purposes, he truly doesn't care. Death won't welcome him, so he just stays inside his own head, letting the others deal with everything. He has no will to do anything anyway. So why bother? It's not like anything really makes him happy or even content. Every day, is exactly the same as the last. The only variations that exist are his therapy sessions and days off work. And even those have a monotony to them. Everything is a chore, from eating to working. Sleep is all he really looks forward to, because at least then, he's even more unconscious of the world.

With his alters, he's rather complicated in many ways. His gender, which is Agender, a lack of gender.
His orientations, his being Cupioflux, meaning he desires relationships without necessarily feeling any attraction to the person or persons involved.
Drew is bisexual, with a preference for men.
Bo is polysexual and demisexual, and polyromantic.
Flaire is completely homosexual.
Ruby is Aromantic and homo-grayasexual.

A complicated mess, no?
He thinks so, and so, doesn't think about those things often. He strongly dislikes people and doesn't want to be around them any more than he absolutely has to. Being alone is the single greatest thing to him, alone in his dark room, with his xbox. He prefers it that way. People cause too many complications. He doesn't find many things in his life to be good. Nothing is interesting or worth doing. Everything is a chore.
Maybe it's the depression, but he doesn't think so, he's never felt like he belonged in this life. He first noticed that, when he was around twelve or thirteen. Since then, the feeling has only grown stronger, but it's not like he can change anything, gods know he's tried. So he lets the others live for him, he doesn't have the energy to deal with anything or anyone. He just wants to be left alone, to die. He's accepted it probably won't happen though. As much as he wants it. He even has the means to the deed, sitting in his bathroom. He's going to be much more careful with his next attempt. He doesn't want to fail again. He should have died last time, by all medical means. He didn't though, and so he plans to try again, though he hasn't planned quite when yet. He has to do more research on dosing and such things. To make sure nothing goes wrong.
His therapist is aware of his intentions, but she knows nothing will change anything. No hospital, nothing. She's convinced he wants to live, because he does all these things that indicate he doesn't feel as bad as he does. But she doesn't seem to understand that it's not him doing those things. It's the others. They can act like him, pass as him, he's probably never even actually spoken to her. Maybe once or twice, but usually no. And she has no idea, she can't tell the difference. Sometimes, he wants to yell at her, that what she perceives as him, isn't really him. But he knows he won't, he's not the yelling sort. And it wouldn't help. Nothing will.