Struggling with the transition of being an old host

I'm the old host of this system. My name is Aloe. I feel really, really awful. I stopped being the host about a year ago because someone new came up to take the responsibility. I finally had an out. An escape. A break. A chance to breathe. But I guess now we both are kinda stuck. They feel like they could never measure up to me, and I feel like I'm nothing to measure up to. I'm shattered and broken and scarred and a mess. And they accept all of that so easily. They accept the help I've desperately needed but never been offered in a second. They ask for a cane? We got one. They want to spend money? Guess we can splurge. But when it was me it was never like that. And even now our parent is upset at *me* for leaving the current host with what I can - because I left. Because I don't come back to the life I needed to escape from that often. Because I hide. They get time I had to fight tooth and nail for and get upset when it's taken. They cope with mental disabilities I never even thought that we could've had. They understand us, and themselves, in a way I simply can't. They can't mask very well? I was forced to. They can be themselves. Freely. I did that and I was shoved back into a container. They get meltdowns and the worst they're subjected to is yelling. They reject food's taste and is told it's alright. They don't finish eating? All good. When I had meltdowns? I would get shouted at, spanked, my supports - other people and my various toys and stuffies, even pillows - were taken from me. I didn't like food? I was being picky. Ungrateful. I was snapped at for not eating the food provided. I didn't finish? Well then I guess I can go to bed early then. I guess I wasn't appreciative of it. I guess I need to eat less during the day. They're jealous of me because I have traits they thought they had. They don't understand any of it. They don't have the memories. They don't remember the sting. They can't recall the feeling of plastic under their fingers being ripped away. They never laid in a pee-soaked bed because they didn't want to reveal another accident to their parents for them to get yelled at for. And I guess I'm a horrible person for this. I've always been self-centered. Casually manipulative. They noticed and I guess it helped that they assured me they aren't inherently bad things. But that's just the thing. They had the resources. They could tell me that. They can search. I can't. Jealousy isn't something I ever felt. I prided myself on it! But now? Everything I waited years for is finally coming...for them. Not for me. And it's my fault, my tainted moral, my awful, evil, selfish mind, for feeling bitter about it.