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fellowshippers2005-12-12 11:00 pm
geniusartist.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2005-12-12 11:00 pm
Journal Keeping (6)
Title: Journal Keeping (6)
Fandom: LOTR RPS
Pairing: EW/DM
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Deals with sensitive issues. Nothing graphic.
8.31.04
Dear June. If I had known you meant to read my entries, I would’ve written about daisies in Spring or else reviewed the latest Indie folk rock album I recently purchased.
Me, pissed??
You should’ve been upfront about it.
Before any of this happened -- the nightmares, the pills, the remembering of things that when I see them in my mind almost feel like they were done to someone else and I know it’s just wishful thinking and it all makes me want to puke -- I was normal. Ok?? Chew that up a bit. Normal.
You acted surprised when I was surprised when you asked me for the journal. Thus far.
How’s that going, Elijah?
Fucking brilliant, June. Couldn’t think of any better way to spend at least 15 to 30 minutes of my day than to sit, ponder, and angst on paper.
Therapy last time doesn’t really count, does it? Not when: a) it’s all blurry, fuzzy mental poppies and hallucinations, and b) I was fucking six years old!!! Therefore, if I was given any extrafuckingcurricular activities outside of sessions -- oh, like say, keep a journal of your thoughts, no don’t worry about what you write, just write, express yourself -- I don’t know that I would have remembered even if I never forgot in the first place, been familiar with the whole process, would’ve put two times five together and realized that what it was was just another head shrinking tactic to help me.
Fuck.
So, this is what you experts would call “having an episode”. You know what lay people like myself call it? Being a fucking human being.
If I am particularly more emotive than usual, more expressive -- ok, furious -- why does it have to be labeled and then compartmentalized as an abnormality or excess in behavior like I’d grown two extra toes both on my right foot?
If I feel betrayed, it’s because I was.
Many fucking times over.
Shit.
Now, I’m crying like a loon.
Brilliant.
I’m not taking medication again. Ever. Even you were on my side with that. Pills to assist in sleep aside, I don’t like being zombied up for the rest of life. Fuck skating by oblivious. Ok, shit hurts. And it keeps hurting and when I wake up in the middle of the nights now, no codeine pills to put me back under, I feel like slamming my head against the wall. Instead, I just use my extra-soft, full-body-sized pillow. What?? You know I’m a poof about certain things.
And on that note, I shall reserve the topic of Dominic and myself for a future entry. Or entries. Many entries, in fact.
By the way, sorry I was such a prick today. I don’t really think you’re a fat cow with terrible hygiene that needs to reenroll herself for a real degree aside from the one that got you a license to fuck with people’s heads.
And I don’t think you’re trying to fuck with my head. Not really.
Fandom: LOTR RPS
Pairing: EW/DM
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Deals with sensitive issues. Nothing graphic.
8.31.04
Dear June. If I had known you meant to read my entries, I would’ve written about daisies in Spring or else reviewed the latest Indie folk rock album I recently purchased.
Me, pissed??
You should’ve been upfront about it.
Before any of this happened -- the nightmares, the pills, the remembering of things that when I see them in my mind almost feel like they were done to someone else and I know it’s just wishful thinking and it all makes me want to puke -- I was normal. Ok?? Chew that up a bit. Normal.
You acted surprised when I was surprised when you asked me for the journal. Thus far.
How’s that going, Elijah?
Fucking brilliant, June. Couldn’t think of any better way to spend at least 15 to 30 minutes of my day than to sit, ponder, and angst on paper.
Therapy last time doesn’t really count, does it? Not when: a) it’s all blurry, fuzzy mental poppies and hallucinations, and b) I was fucking six years old!!! Therefore, if I was given any extrafuckingcurricular activities outside of sessions -- oh, like say, keep a journal of your thoughts, no don’t worry about what you write, just write, express yourself -- I don’t know that I would have remembered even if I never forgot in the first place, been familiar with the whole process, would’ve put two times five together and realized that what it was was just another head shrinking tactic to help me.
Fuck.
So, this is what you experts would call “having an episode”. You know what lay people like myself call it? Being a fucking human being.
If I am particularly more emotive than usual, more expressive -- ok, furious -- why does it have to be labeled and then compartmentalized as an abnormality or excess in behavior like I’d grown two extra toes both on my right foot?
If I feel betrayed, it’s because I was.
Many fucking times over.
Shit.
Now, I’m crying like a loon.
Brilliant.
I’m not taking medication again. Ever. Even you were on my side with that. Pills to assist in sleep aside, I don’t like being zombied up for the rest of life. Fuck skating by oblivious. Ok, shit hurts. And it keeps hurting and when I wake up in the middle of the nights now, no codeine pills to put me back under, I feel like slamming my head against the wall. Instead, I just use my extra-soft, full-body-sized pillow. What?? You know I’m a poof about certain things.
And on that note, I shall reserve the topic of Dominic and myself for a future entry. Or entries. Many entries, in fact.
By the way, sorry I was such a prick today. I don’t really think you’re a fat cow with terrible hygiene that needs to reenroll herself for a real degree aside from the one that got you a license to fuck with people’s heads.
And I don’t think you’re trying to fuck with my head. Not really.