#than tortured every day for the rest of my life - so I guess that also coloured how I read it too XDD

[asinglemagpie]

Okay so I don't think I ever read the official blurb for "The Sunshine Court" and...

But when he is stolen from Edgar Allan University and sold to a more dangerous master

... it's funny how I never paused to realise that's exactly how Jean would see it.

I know he says repeatedly that they've taken him from the Nest and he doesn't want to be there, but I still got swept up in the thinking that Renee saved him, that Neil gave him a future. Somehow while acknowledging his unhappiness and fear at his situation I never quite boiled it down to those words.

And those words hit hard.

I wonder if it'll read differently when I get there again!

[writingoddess1125]

In Another Life

Depression Time!!

Trafalgar Law x FemReader

Sadness, Angst, Death. And More Saddness!

Support me on Ko-Fi! Gotta survive to write more!

Wrote this while watching a movie- can probably guess the movie..

'Law! You have to promise me, when we get married we get a kitten' You giggled at your long term . The two of you holding hands as you walked through the meadows next to the secret base.

Law bristled at your words, remembering his own parents and the happiness they shared- but also the heartache he experienced thinking of them. The two of you looking to each other-

'Why do you say that?'

'Cause kittens are cute?- especially ones with gray fur and blue eyes' He cut you off with an annoyed scoff.

'No the marriage thing? Why would you think I'd marry you!?' His words harsh and rude which made you flinch.

'Law.. We aren't long for this world- we have already spent most of our lives together then seperate.. I'd want to spend the rest of it with you' You said so softly, confuses by his tone. Law yanking his hand away from you in false anger.

'Then I shouldn't waste my time in doing something stupid like marriage' He said annoyed. Your eyes filling up with tears, you didn't say a word. Instead walking away from him- he didn't stop you. Assuming you had just went to clear your mind from the harsh reality- but he didn't expect you to never return at all...

He should have know... he should have truly heard her words when she said she waan't long for this world...

That had been years ago.. he hadn't heard or seen (Y/N) since. Truthfully he regretted that so much- his world ever darker since that day.

At night he would wince when he thought back on his words before sleep- his dreams filled with the life he should have had with her if he wasn't so angry at the world.

It had been a few days ago however when he'd gotten a letter- recognizing your handwriting so well. But he never could have even guessed the words on those pages- asking to see him again before (Y/N) passed... a illness no one could treat claiming her life and taking her away soon.

Running to her home, he went to the hospital she was in- entering the room with a heavy heart knowing what was on the other side.

Law had always been a man of few words, but as he stood by (Y/N)'s side one final time, a thousand emotions wrestled within his heart. Her form weakened by the ravages of time, lay in a bed adorned with soft blankets that him and others had brought for her, her frail hand clasped in Law's strong grip.

"I wish we had more time," Law murmured, his voice heavy with regret.

(Y/N) smiled weakly, her eyes shimmering with love as the light began to fade from them. "We've had a lifetime of memories, Law. I am grateful for the time we've shared."

Her words struck Law like a blade to the chest, as he struggled to hold back the tears threatening to spill. His hardened exterior cracked, and vulnerability seeped through the cracks.

"I often dreamed of a life together, you know," Law confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "A quiet house by the sea, with our children running through the sand. We would sit on the porch, holding hands and watching the sunset."

Her expression softened with reminiscence, her voice a gentle melody. "That sounds like a beautiful lofe, Law. A life filled with love and peace."

Law's grip on (Y/N)'s hand tightened, as if trying to hold onto the fleeting moments they had left. "I would have given anything to make that dream a reality. To protect you, to see you smile every day."

(Y/N) lifted her free hand and gently caressed Law's cheek. "You have already given me so much, Law. The love you have shown me is more than I could have ever asked for."

Tears rolled down Law's face, his breathing uneven as he held back sobs. "If you'd had told me- I could have save you! protect you from the cruelty of this world. But..."

Her touch provided a soothing balm to Law's tortured soul. "You gave me a life filled with adventure, love, and purpose. Our time together has been a gift, Law.. even if it had to end like this."

Law lowered his head- sitting next to her as his tears started to drip onto the bed, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. (Y/N) despite her weakened state, gathered her strength and pulled Law into a tender embrace. They held each other, the weight of their emotions filling the room like an unspoken song.

As the sun began to set, its warm glow bathing the room in a golden light, Law whispered his final words into her ear. "I will carry your love within me until my last breath, and beyond. You have forever changed me, and our love will have another day."

(Y/N)'s touch grew feeble, her breathing shallow. She mustered the strength to raise her gaze to meet Law's tear-stained eyes. "Thank you for loving me, Law. I will always be with you, in your heart."

With those tender words, (Y/N) slipped away, leaving Law alone in a world forever altered. He held her lifeless hand, his despair mingling with the emptiness in his chest as loud desperate cries ripped through his soul.

Law sat in the inn, staring at the empty bottles infront of him- his chest feeling hallow and full of regret. Part of him wanting to walk into the sea and return to his love.. see her smiling face one last time-

Rolling himself up from his seat, he stumbled out of the bar- the alcohol making his brain fuzzy and uneven as he was met with the cold night air. His mind drifting to the sea... maybe he would see (Y/N) on the other side- his family.. love out that fantasy the two of you had always wished for.. one that he was too stupid to realize was more important than anything else-

As he walked down to the peir, his mind only of his regrets in life.

He looked out on the ocean, his legs felt like they were lead and he wanted to jump in and let the Goddess claim him- till the sound of his name drew him back. Looking to see a man in a suit rushing to him with a box and crate in tow.

"You there! Are you Trafalgar Law?"

"Yeah what's it to you?" Law grumbled-

"Ah Sir. Im Wallace J, Lawyer for (Y/N)- You were listened in ger will fkr everhthing including her home but (Y/N) had left some items that needed to be personally handed to you- oh and this" The man said calmly as he gestured to the crate.

Law looked confused by this and nodded, taking the box and opening it. There his heart broke for a second time that day- there was several letters, with his name on it- he knew (Y/N) hand writing too well to say these were from anyone else.. paired with the dried flower ring he had made her years ago when the two of them were children, with other sentimentalthings from his childhood. The lawyer holding out a letter that had been separated from the box. The doctor quickly taking it and reading it-

My Darling Law

As I write this letter, I want my time with you in this world has come to an end. But i want you to know that my love for you is unwavering, and my deepest wish is for your happiness. Life is a journey filled with twists and turns, and in those moments when I may not be by your side, I implore you to seek joy and love.

Find someone who fills your soul, someone who understands and cherishes the beautiful person you are. Embrace love, laughter, and companionship with another. Life is too short to settle for anything less than genuine happiness.

Remember, your life is precious and unique, and your happiness is what I want the most for you.

So while I can't be there to be on that journey, I still want you to walk thay path. I know you are hurt, and im sorry i was the one who caused it.. but I hope this little guy can give you just a bit of love to you while you find your way.

I love you Law, to the end of the stars and back.

Forever yours, (Y/N)

The doctor gave a breathy sigh as a sob threated to spill from him. Setting the box down as he looked to the crate, Opening it slowly and tears rolled down at the sight.

A gray kitten with sleepy blue eyes mewed at him- Law reaching forward and picking up the little thing. Remembering the words when the two of shared long ago.

'When we get married- you better get me a kitten. One with gray fur and blue eyes'

The lawyer watching in empathy, watching the man before him crumble and fall to his knees as he held the kitten in his arms.

[coraniaid]

School Hard is, in retrospect, one of the pivotal episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  

In this episode, Buffy is trapped in Sunnydale High School, forced to confront one of the most significant villains the show has yet introduced; one of the most iconic and memorable of the show’s seven seasons.  Somebody who, the first time he speaks to Buffy this episode, casually threatens to kill her and walks away without so much as a scratch.  Somebody who we’re meant to see as an altogether different proposition than his Season 1 predecessors.  Somebody whose attempts to destroy Buffy this time around are only foiled thanks to unexpected support from her mother, leaving him free to try again and again for the rest of the season. 

A villain who, unlike Luke and the Annointed One and all the other Season 1 monsters of the week, actually seems to be having fun while he does his best to ruin Buffy’s life and inflict misery and torture on the population of Sunnydale. Somebody who relishes in inflicting pretty cruelty.  Somebody who was originally intended to be killed off after only a few appearances, but who – thanks in no small part to his performance in episodes like this one – will instead continue to appear on the show for years to come.  A character it is impossible to imagine Buffy the Vampire Slayer without.

I am, of course, talking about Principal Snyder.

(Also there are some new vampires in town this episode I guess but whatever.  This post isn’t about them.)

I didn’t talk about him much during my Season 1 rewatch, but I really enjoy Principal Snyder as an antagonist.  I think he might actually be one of my favorite minor characters.  He’s incredibly well realized from his first appearance in The Puppet Show: instantly this note perfect pastiche of a self-important petty little bully with just barely enough power to be really dangerous.  The show uses him as a contrast to the other adults in Buffy’s life (Giles, Joyce) to such good effect (especially at the beginning of Season 3).  And Armin Shimerman is fantastic in the role: you can see why the writers gave up on their initial idea of Sunnydale High having a whole string of different principals who got killed off every few episodes.

He’s such a well done comic character too: funny, but never slipping up and giving the impression of being in on the joke.  We’re only seven episodes in, and we’ve already gotten gems like “I can smell trouble – it’s like a sixth sense.” and  “What are you, ghouls?  There are no dead students here.  This week.”.  All delivered with this perfect growling sneer and no acknowledgement at all that what he’s saying is ridiculous.

He’s just fun, in a way that I really don’t think any of Buffy’s other non-supernatural antagonists are.  Yes, Buffy will continue to find the non-supernatural parts of her life hard after high school, but it’s all so impersonal after this.  Other than Maggie Walsh (who is really part of the supernatural world anyway, as head of the Initiative, so barely counts), none of the bad professors she has to deal with in college are recurring characters.  Neither is her bank manager, or her boss at the Doublemeat Palace, or Dawn’s security worker. (Okay, very technically her second manager at the DMP is recurring, but you know what I mean.) 

Of course, being a Slayer still causes Buffy problems in her day to day life, but for whatever reason – I don’t know if it was a deliberate choice or just a result of the later seasons becoming increasingly serialized and story-arc focused - the show becomes less and less concerned with showing us that everyday life.  (Is Parker the last recurring character of any importance who never finds out that Buffy is the Slayer?) And when Buffy goes back to work at the high school in Season 7, everything’s so tied up with her being the Slayer that we just don’t get the same juggling-two-lives thing anymore.

And ... well, I guess Buffy doesn't miss Snyder. I can hardly blame her. But I do.

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

31st Story, Part 2

TW: Blood, implied past captivity and torture, stitches, wound description, angst, corrupt system, issues regarding figure (brief), bruises, angst, knife, touch starvation

Part 1

Guess who's back with a hella long piece. vacay from college for some time with semester 1 over, woo! enjoyyy 💙

“So how did you sleep?” the vigilante asked as she walked downstairs to find the villain sitting cross-legged on her couch. 

“Well,” he answered evenly, emotionlessness overtaking his tone as usual. It wasn't a complete lie; he'd slept better than he had in a long time, but his eyes had wrenched open a little after sunrise, even though he wasn't a morning person. He couldn't relax too much into this life, the knife he took shoved into the pocket of his sweatpants, but she didn't need to know that. 

“I'll make us breakfast,” she announced.

“I'll help you out,” he offered, even though he knew she could probably infer what his motives were. He still wasn't taking any chances anyway. 

She nodded curtly in response, leading him to the kitchen. And he'd almost wished someone had warned him about the whiplash of doing something so outlandishly casual with your enemy, as he watched her make a sandwich and soon enough followed suit, still hyper aware of the knives and the boiling water in the kettle. 

And of course, nothing was lost on Vigilante, even if she probably wasn’t half as nervous as he was, the half-frantic, wild animal wrapped in the poorly fitting garment of someone calm and collected. “Are you always this tense?” she questioned as she sat down at the table and he sat opposite from her.

“Just hungry,” he shot back smoothly, a seasoned liar. Sure, he technically was half-starved, trying to eat slowly just so he wouldn’t retch, but if that was the case, he would’ve relaxed when he ate.  

The vigilante said nothing as she took a bite of her sandwich, but her disbelieving eyebrow raise needed no further additions. 

The villain’s grip tightened on his mug as he worried his frayed bottom lip between his teeth,”What do you want? If you’re going to question every micro-gesture of mine, then why’d you bring me here?” His voice was hoarse with exhaustion, probably from all the screaming he couldn’t muffle, not that he cared.

“I get it,” the vigilante said placatingly, even though it was clear she was somewhat irritated. She wasn’t a goddamn bleeding heart just oozing compassion and patience, not that he expected any different. “You’re afraid of getting hurt.” 

“I am not afraid of crap, Vigilante.” It came out softer than he’d intended, almost as though he was the one trying to calm the situation, a new trait of people-pleasing a new and heavily despised survival skill he’d recently acquired. 

The vigilante wanted to argue, but she also knew that from the day she’d walked into his cell and pulled him out, that she’d been walking on thin ice. That the man in front of her wasn’t his normal, unflappable self that could dish out a lot worse than whatever she dared to throw at him, so for the rest of this tense, awkward breakfast, they both remained quiet. 

It had taken them about two hours of trepidation spent in the opposite ends of the living room for Vigilante to break the silence. “So, about the plan,” she started.

“Yeah?” he asked, now turning to face her. 

“We can’t fight her by traditional means. We don’t have the time to amass an army big enough to rival my sister’s own. The main thing we need to do is find some way to desecrate that shining image of hers,” she explained. 

The villain let out a low hum as though he was contemplating something, but the slight shift in the nature of his gaze indicated he’s noticed something. “Knocking your sister off of her pedestal is surely going to gain you some traction,” he noted. 

“I don’t care much for the spotlight,” she countered. 

“I know. But you seem to care about making sure your sister doesn’t have everything. Still, that isn’t the issue anyway.”

And again, he was right. There is something so utterly sickening of being born in someone’s shadow, of having all your power from someone else’s name. Vigilante was only formidable in people’s eyes because it was required of Superhero’s sister. Again, she’d never claimed to be dramatically selfless.

Still, she took note of how the villain made no effort at eye contact, his eyes trained on the pattern of her wooden coffee table, but she refrained from commenting. “Right. The general idea is, if the adoring public find out what she does to the people in her custo-”

The villain, in his most daring act of the day, had let out a sardonic snort. “Oh, save it. I don’t think you realise that how people like me are treated doesn’t really irk anyone. Because that’s how the world works, it’s easier like that. I’m not the most notorious, but it’s safe to say I’m ‘famous’ enough,” he made air quotations with his fingers, “People usually want to know about the trial, when it comes to people they’ve heard of, but no one gave a damn. No one cared to know I never really got a trial in the first place. Because they were just relieved that the Big Bad Guy was off the streets. Locked up somewhere. It doesn’t matter that my record says I’m guilty of crap I’ve never done. Because technically, I’ve committed my fair share of my crimes, what’s more to the pile? Hell, if it keeps me locked away for all eternity, then why not?” 

This time, the villain’s gaze was steely, his teeth gnashed together and his tone harsh, and yet before she’d even commented, the villain was quick to force the muscles of his face to work on pulling it into a blank expression, his hand going to his pocket. 

Where, unbeknownst to Vigilante, the knife from yesterday was. .  .

It took her a moment to register his words and realise he was right. The likes of Villain wouldn’t garner the sympathy of the same people that cheered when they were locked up, at every suffocating press conference where her sister’s airy voice seemed to ring in her ears. 

But how else was she supposed to rouse some sort of public outcry against her sister? She needed the key, the concept, the idea, and from that she could form a plan. It was why she thought of asking the villain in the first place. 

“Then what should we do to get people to notice?” 

The villain’s pale hand made its way out of his pocket, his expression still nearly unreadable. “Your sister’s clever. She’s almost untraceable, and uncovering her shady past would be difficult. Or actually, more difficult than having her do something terrible now.” 

“So you’re saying we somehow force her to commit some sort of terrible crime?” 

“Force is the wrong word. It wouldn’t be a choice she wouldn’t make on her own accord. And that’s our selling point. No one needs to make her pull underhanded crap because she’ll take that choice anyway. And from then, whatever it is you want to reveal is actually going to have a basis.” 

The villain straightened his posture, pulling his now slightly loose fitting hoodie down so straighten a wrinkle only for it to come down with a strange difficulty, like it was stuck to his skin, the man letting out a soft hiss. 

“You alright?” she asked. 

“Fine,” he answered curtly, getting up. He knew exactly why his jacket had stuck to his form in the first place, and he really didn’t need Vigilante’s supposed concern. There’s a lot worse he’d seen in his life, in those three months alone than some old scratch reopening. Walking into his room, he shrugged his hoodie off in front of the mirror only to notice that the stupid scratch was in an area he could barely reach, deeper and uglier than he thought, blood running down it in crimson rivulets, exposed tissue that was barely healing showing too. He didn’t know where the gauze was, or how he’d even manage treating the wound. And somehow, his past vanity, or rather basic awareness of his appearance that he now called vanity hadn’t completely faded away considering he noticed bone and skin where muscle used to be and the ridiculous amount of bruises adorning his figure in various shades of dusty purples and browns; every sign of how his captors had turned him into a punching bag for all their sadistic cravings. 

“Villain?” 

Hell no. He didn’t want anyone in this room with him while he looked like this, frantic again and wishing he could rip his hair from its roots. He almost didn’t care that he was still bleeding and it hurt to shift even slightly, or that his wound felt warm to the touch and was probably infected. He sat there on the bed, gripping onto the sheets like they were the only thing tethering him to the world around him. “Just,” he faltered. As much as the villain hated it, he couldn’t do crap right now without her help. He bit his lip again and exhaled slowly. “Come in.” 

She cursed softly when she looked at the wound, the scarlet already snaking down his lower back now. It didn’t take her long to come back with a whole lot of first aid equipment. “This’ll hurt,” she said slowly. 

All she got was a low grunt in response as she pressed antiseptic-soaked gauze to his back, and even though he barely let out a noise, didn’t move out of the way, his shoulders still tensed up under the pain. 

Involuntarily, she stroked a hand through his hair, a reflexive action even though the vigilante wasn’t particularly touchy, especially with her enemy turned ally of convenience. He turned to stare at her, looking nothing short of surprised, but not irritated or afraid. He turned around again as she stitched up his wound and tended to his other scratches, surprised how well he was holding out. The villain barely flinched through the process, but again the man had always been surprisingly enduring.

The villain seriously didn’t remember the last time anyone had tended to his injuries, even before getting captured. He’s sure someone did, during the times he couldn’t do it himself, but no one had ever run a hand through his hair when he’d tensed up or anything of the sort. He despised the fact that it hadn’t irritated him, instead he was left there dumbfounded, half-wishing she would do it again and half-grateful she refrained from it, from making him feel so bloody exposed like that. This entire ordeal, how strangely gentle the vigilante had been with him, how he slowly relaxed even though the idea of being this vulnerable, this close to one of his enemies terrified him.

The villain didn’t like to feel things that weren’t dry, controlled anger or smugness or absolutely nothing. So he didn’t, pretended he couldn’t until he believed it. 

Every lie dies in the end, no?

The vigilante had got up to hand him a new t-shirt that he slowly pulled on, minding his wounds but still refusing any help with it. “Thanks,” he mumbled awkwardly. 

“Y-you thank people?” she asked, half out of genuine surprise and half to lighten the mood. 

The villain didn’t smile, but his lip twitched up ever so slightly with a half-smirk, “I’m a villain, but I’m not a complete tactless bastard.” 

“I guess you could say that, and you’re welcome. I’ll just go clean up. Put your jacket in the basket over there.” The vigilante looked down at her bloodstained hands, and the villain gave her a curt nod. 

He was lucky she hadn’t taken the jacket herself, or noticed the knife somehow, and he could still keep it. It felt even scummier after right now, when she could’ve just let him bleed out, or made it worse since she was this close to him. He didn’t even know what she would try the second he was no longer useful. 

Carefully, he lowered his form onto the bed, letting out a soft groan. This was the strangest stage of his life yet, he presumed. 

So many times, life is about choosing the worst option, the choice you’d swore to never make, about condemning yourself to being at the mercy of the unknown. People will scream at you to avoid the lion’s den, but sometimes it is the only shelter from a raging storm ready to destroy you into nothing. And yet, maybe there is wisdom in the most foolish decisions, and safety in the most dangerous risks. Because even if you’re riddled with deep wounds and scars, even those can heal under care, even in the most unexpected places.

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Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[olysmile]

𝐌𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥📚

The past three years in high school were not the worst, but also not the best. You should all get ready because you will see me yapping a lot. Hope you make it untill the end :')

In high school i had only one real friend. It was the girl who was sitting next to me. We were getting along really well. We were also close with another girl, who wasn't always with us and she was associating with other students, which was not necessarily a bad thing. On the second year my ex bestfriend came to my highschool as well. There are many reasons she is my ex bestie but I am not going to get in further details, because they are out of today's topic.

Even if I did not have many friends, I can tell that I was not alone and I was happy with that. But.... There were many of my classmates who were trying to get my attention and hang out with me once in a blue moon. No, they were not showing pity and they did notwant me as their friend. The only think they wanted was the gossip. They knew pretty well that I am an extrovert, so they wanted to spend time with me and make me share some things that were happening in my life that time so they can mock me or gossip abou it,

Even when they did not use that method, they had their own ways to humiliate me and joke around. For instance, on Saturday nights, everyone from the school was out for drinks with their friends, or a casual work, like all teenagers do. Once, while I was on my second year in high school, I was out with a guy (currently boyfriend) and we bumped into one girl from my class. I guess we can all imagine what happened on Monday. We were casually chilling in class during breaktime and the girl had the nerve to say out loud: "Olyyyy!!! Would you like to tell the others with whom you were out on Saturday?!?!?!?!?!?" Everyone stared asking me questions and spreading the news about my new 'boyfriend'.... It was discussed every day for the rest of this school year. Someone mentioned some out loud about this during chemistry class. I still wonder how I didn’t throw a chair at him in front of everyone, but I showed pity for the teacher who was trying to do his job. He apologised right after class, but he only did because I screamed on his face that it bothered me. If this isn't torturous, then what is? The worst part is that even my friends were joking about it sometimes... And this wasn't happening just with this guy... It was happening with every person I was hanging out and wasn't going on the same high school as me. I don't know why it was so odd for them the fact that I have friends out of this shitty place...

Another issue that me and my friend had was that we were kinda treated as outcasts. What do I mean by that? I will explain. It was sports day. There were no classes and sports events were taking place all day at school. When these events were over, my friend and I went home, as any normal student would do. Twenty minutes later, I received some photos in my class's group chat. There were photos with all the children in the class. No one bothered to tell me and my friend: "Hey girls, don't leave yet, we want to take some photos with all the class!". And this did not happen just once.....

We had been on a school trip and everyone had arranged to go and sit in a restaurant together apart from us and without informing us with a phone call or a message. Even the girl who is supposed to be our 'friend' didn't inform us either. And you wanna know the funniest part? At the end of this trip, this girl and of the other clowns had the nerve to come and ask us: "Why didn't you join us? The whole class was there" I AM SORRY YOU BASTARDS, BUT NONE OF YOU MADE THE MOVE TO RAISE YOUR FILTHY HAND, GRAB YOUR PRECIOUS AND EXPENSIVE PHONE AND GIVE US A CALL! I think I replied well, don't you think?

For the record, even if it was just me and my friend alone, we had fun anyways. It was way better to explore the town rather than sitting on a restaurant and doing nothing.

So that is what was happening during the first and the second year on my high school. On the third year, which many of you might call “senior” year, things were somehow chill. No one cared about the others that much, because we were all focused at the upcoming final exams. I still was dealing with some boys who were treating me wrong. More specifically one guy who was sitting behind me in some classes. He was mocking me, stealing my stuff, my bag, ruining my stuff, like pens etc. He also stuffed my hoodie with many pieces of paper and some pens. Some of the classmates who were watching this situation were laughing and they were also supporting his actions against me. I was trying to ignore him as much as I could. But the situation was making me mad and most of the time I changed seat so I could avoid him.

Many of you might say that I am overreacting and that he could do worse. Well sure he could, but this year was important and I needed to focus on classes and my studies. I couldn’t deal with a jackass who didn’t care about school at all and wanted to spend his time messing around.

All in all, these are some stories about these years in high school. I graduated this summer and I am totally happy that I left from this circus. I am also happy that I won’t have to be obligated to see all these kids who I hate with my whole heart anymore.

I really wanted to write about all these, because I think it’s the best way to get a closure.

I don’t care if people call me dramatic after this and I surely couldn’t care less if anyone feels offended by reading all these things I wrote. So if any of my former classmates is reading this, I have this message for you: You are liars, manipulators, thieves and bastards too. Hope I never have to deal with your shit again. Toodles :)

[perpetuallylatetothefandomparty]

3, 6, 10, 12, and 25 from the writer asks please!

3 - how you feel about your current WIP

I'm going to be completely honest here and say that... I kind of hate it? I'm just at that stage where the flaws are obvious and the good parts are a bit obscured from view. Once I've got it all down then I can edit it and like it a bit more. At least, that's what'll hopefully happen.

6 - the word that appears most in your current draft

"Keith" is top, then "Keith's", but excluding names the top 3 are "druid", "eyes", and "guard". Make of that what you will hehe

10 - what is the longest amount of time you've let a draft rest before you finished it?

Not sure if this counts, but when I was younger and doing original stuff, there was a story I left for 2 or 3 years before coming back and giving it a shoddy ending lmao.

Fic-wise... hmm. *glances at Google Drive and looks away from all the abandoned works* Generally that doesn't happen. If a story gets left for much longer than a month I'll take it as read that I'm probably never going to finish it haha because I'll have moved on and lost the inspiration/motivation to write it. (That's the main reason I don't post until it's all written, because I know I can't necessarily be trusted to deliver) I also don't tend to have many wips that I care about going on at once, because I'm slightly obsessive about getting them finished :)

12 - a trope you're really into right now

Ooh, I've been reading some darkfics lately- absolutely consuming that whump. (Which has inevitably bled into my writing hehe) Hurt and angst (accompanying comfort and fluff optional) are still dear to my heart in terms of genre though!

In terms of specific tropes, I love found family- it's an enduring favourite and one of the things I love Voltron for. I also go for trauma, cold-blooded and sadistic torture, Stockholm syndrome, caretaking, self-sacrifice, self-harm, human experimentation, pleading for mercy (bonus points if no mercy is forthcoming!), and of course hugs in pretty much any context absolutely destroy me. I could list more, but oops, the question was only for only one trope and that's... like... thirteen.

I guess my favourite set-up (getting a little off topic here but anyway) would be someone asking to be hurt in someone they care about's place (I'm kind of imagining a Keith scenario here) but that request is rejected and the loved one gets hurt anyway. The helplessness there is delicious to read/write.

25 - besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

I have a few! Still kind of mastering keeping the idea that 'it's okay not to touch hobbies every day' in my head, because really between classes and trying to have a social life and writing and sleeping I really don't have enough free time to pursue every hobby all the time :')

Music was a huge obsession for me a while back, and for a while I thought I'd end up studying it, but no (going for chemistry instead). Still a big part of my life though, so playing piano is one of my go-to hobbies. (Messing around on bass is a little more chill, I do that too.) And I listen to music pretty much constantly, especially when writing or travelling haha

Reading, obviously, whether that's fics or physical books. I used to do it a ton but distressingly less so since my schedule's got tighter and writing (the current dominant hobby) has been using up more of what free time I have.

Those are the main ones! I also do little bits of sound engineering and cycling (although that's usually just for my commute) and I dabble in various arty/crafty things; there's probably more, but that's all I can think of at the moment.

Thanks for the ask! ♡

[alovesongforu]

One - My Mom Finally Goes Crazy

Have you ever watched any race in your life? If your answer is 'yes', I bet you've asked yourself  "How can they run so fast and so much? Is that even humanly possible?" 

I used to ask the same question, but now, pursued by hundreds, maybe thousands of flesh-hungry monsters, I have the answer: yes. When your mind is filled with a surviving instinct, it releases a funny hormone in your blood that keeps you going on, no matter what's happening. 

It doesn't matter if your lungs burn so much they feel like combusting, it doesn't matter if every fiber in your legs is screaming for rest, it doesn't matter if you have a bite so deep in your neck that blood gushes.

It keeps you going, numbing your pain and clouding your senses with just one message: Keep going or you'll die. The name of this hormone? Adrenaline. I could continue my story from here, but I don't think you readers would understand it fully, so let's go back in the storyline.  

°°°

June 5, 2019. Brazil, São Paulo.

12:30 PM.

I hate school. Even though I have changed schools multiple times, bullying haunts me. I had no friends in Guarulhos, the only ones I managed to make turned their backs against me, I was beaten every single day. 

In São Paulo, things are not that different. People ignore me, unless they want to ridicule me. I don't get beaten anymore, no one scratches my desk with insults, telling me to kill myself, but I'm alone. Lonely. I try to console myself, saying that it's better being alone than poorly accompanied, but it still hurts.

Oh, I forgot to introduce myself, I'm so sorry! My name is Beatrice, Beatrice Sunnova D'Agostino.

I'm ten years old and I study in some fancy private school in the city of São Paulo. My mom is an artist who gained fame not long ago. As I was saying, I'm completely alone. The only friends I have are my mom and...Well, I know it sounds weird, but pigeons, bugs and rats. 

I also know what you're thinking right now. "Poor girl, she's completely nuts...", but I'm not. These animals, 'pests', they talk to me. And even if I am crazy, could you even blame me? If you, my dear reader, went through everything I've been through, I highly doubt you wouldn't think like me or be friends with them too.

I'm a person of many thoughts, so I could spend days and days just narrating all the incessant questions or stories that I create in my head to entertain myself and forget that I don't have a single friend my age, but I think I need to contextualize you from reality.

Right now, I'm having math class. I know, I know, a torture, but it's the last class of the day. Then, I'll go back home and no one will throw paper balls at me, with messages like: "you look like a pig", or "why are you still here? Nobody likes you". I'll be able to eat delicious food, wear comfortable clothes and read until it's dinner time again.

Mr. Ricardo (Yes, in Brazil we don't call our teachers by their last names.), was saying something about... to the power of, I guess? I'm not paying attention, all I can think about is how today's hell is going to end in...ten minutes, no, nine.

You must be asking yourself 'Is this school so bad? Why don't you tell everything to your mom, Beatrice?' Firstly, call me Bea, please. Secondly, my fellow: This is a true hell on earth. I hate this place with all my might. Every day, when I wake up, I pray this place has caught fire, with everyone inside, preferably. 

Now, your second question: My mother became a millionaire, I know she did. But I've only been studying here for a year and a half, and I don't want my mother to spend any more money on me, going through the trouble of buying a new uniform, transferring me to another school, and so on. On top of that, I don't have much time left at school, just six and a half years...Yeah, maybe I do, but I can handle it, I swear.

Mr. Ricardo continued to fill the board with equations, and although I copied it obediently, my ears were focused on the conversation of the clique of girls behind me. Maria Luisa, Sarah, Marina and Carla. You know that group of girls in your class that you clearly see that are nothing more than bitches with some sort of Regina George syndrome, but for some reason, everyone likes them? Yeah, that 's them.

Don't get me wrong, I love girls and I think it's silly to talk negatively about their interests because they are purely feminine, but these girls are demons. They have power over the class and, if they want to, they will make children be excluded and looked down on by the entire school for simply not agreeing with them.

"You're all going to sleep at my house this weekend, right? My parents have already bought everything." Marina said.

"Yeah, but I think I'll just show up at night."

Carla replies.

"Why?" "I have mass in the afternoon." 

"If that's the case then don't even come, Carla! You'll miss all the fun!" 

They were toxic towards each other, I know that, but deep down I wanted a friendship like that. Someone to talk to during class and keep me company during recess. Normally I stay in the school terrace, talking to my pigeon friends. I sound ungrateful right now, yes, I love my pigeon friends, I really do, but I would like to be friends with some girls my age.

With that horrible, booming siren, the bell rings, marking the end of classes. Thank God. I didn't care about my material when I put it in my backpack, I just threw it in and left the room. Nobody talks to me when I'm at the exit, but that's fine. I have my headphones and my music to distract me while my mom doesn't arrive. 

I don't live far from school, but my mom insists on driving me and picking me up every day. That 's fine by me. Even if there are other people from my school who live in the same area as me, I would just be ignored the entire way, so it's even better to get a ride. I'll finally have someone to talk to.

My headphones were blasting with 'A Little Death' by The Neighborhood, and I'm sure other people could hear it, but I couldn't care less. For as long as I can remember, music has always been everything to me. When my mom would fight with my grandfather because he called me a pest, I would just turn up the volume on my headphones and suddenly I would be in another world. 

One where my family loved me, one where I wouldn't have sucked the last drop out of my mother's beauty, one where I wasn't a money-eating parasite. Well...you can understand that music is important for my survival, right?

Even if I was distracted with the music and people passing through me, I still could see my mom's gray VW Virtus stopping in the driveway. I sighed, relieved. Today's hell was over. Now, let me make one thing clear: there are many children in the world who hate their parents for not spending time with them, but not me. I love my mom with my soul. In my eyes, she is the best woman in the world. The most beautiful, nicest, most pleasant, most talented, most perfect in existence. 

My mom is my idol, and if she wanted to touch my bones, I would open the flesh of my body with my bare hands just to satisfy her wish. I hurry to get into the car and immediately realize that there is something wrong. Her smile was forced, her eyes, always so curious and expressive, showed pain and sadness. 

"How was your day, sweetheart?" 

She asks me, but everything about her attitude was wrong. "It was... good. What about yours?"

"It was good too. What do you think about eating filet parmigiana today?"

"Yeah, sure! I'll never complain about filet parmigiana..."

°°°

Even if my mom was pretending everything was okay, we both knew there was something wrong. She couldn't keep a poker face to save her life. The ride home was silent. Not the comfortable silence type. The uncomfortable one, super uncomfortable. 

When we finally got home, I jumped out of the car in a hurry, desperate to escape that strange atmosphere. It was even worse in the elevator. Other people occupied that small cubicle, and my mom wouldn't dare say anything with other people around. I know that.

Even though I was desperate inside, I calmly opened the apartment door, dropping my backpack and taking off my shoes. It wasn't a house rule to take the shoes off to enter the house, but I liked the feeling of my bare feet on the cold floor, even in winter.

The platter with steak and parmigiana was already waiting for the two of us at the table, and my mom served it to me. I poured some juice into my glass while she tried to make conversation. 

"So...nothing funny happened today?" I forgot to mention, but I hate worrying my mom, so I lied to her for maybe the second time in my life. I said I made three friends: Luana, Pedro and Zé. It wasn't a lie, I just didn't mention that my friends were...well, pigeons. But I think it's just a trivial detail, right?

"No...you?"

"...Same..." She then began to cut the food on her plate, but didn't put anything in her mouth. I can't take it anymore. 

"Mom, what's going on?" 

She purses her lips. 

"Bea, we need to talk." 

"Yeah, I can see."

My mom takes a deep breath, she looked like she was about to burst into tears.

"Bea, I already  told you how I met your father, didn't I?"

"He appeared in one of the exhibitions from your college project."

I was starting to feel restless, why didn't she tell me what was happening at once?

"Yes...we started talking, he invited me for a date and...well, I'll spare you from the details-"

"Mommy, where exactly do you want to get to?"

"Bea...I fell in love with a god."

...Uh, okay? If she wants to say this to herself, it's fine, but what do I have to do with this? I probably made a face and let my emotions very clear, because she lets out a whimper, wiping away a tear. 

"Sweetie, you're a demigod."

[elizmanderson]

"a kiss to anger a third party," perhaps from this post? elizmanderson. tumblr. com /711617943947067392

okay so fun fact, I am actually an idiot who read right over “another kissing prompt” on the post this kissing prompt came from and rb it just intending to like save the list of different kisses for later

but then I was too embarrassed to admit that in response to this ask WITHOUT writing something so long story short instead of researching lighthouses today like I was supposed to, I wrote a 1,700-word short story about fake girlfriends who kiss in the hallway outside grandma’s sewing room to piss off some shitty relatives

so. yeah. uh. enjoy I guess.

A KISS TO ANGER A THIRD PARTY STORY THAT I DIDN’T MEAN TO WRITE BUT HERE WE ARE

Fake dating has been going shockingly well, considering you’re terrible at real dating and also at lying, and somehow faking dating is both. Then again, family get-togethers are always awkward as fuck. Your cousin and his wife always share a chilly silence; your uncle has a casually off-color comment for every occasion; your mother judges everyone like doing so is an Olympic sport; and your grandparents desperately try and fail to keep the peace. So no one notices that you and Maeve stand across the room from each other instead of holding hands and melting into each other’s bodies the way two lovey-dovey newlydatings should allegedly do.

Rather, if anyone notices, they figure it’s normal. That’s how relationships are in your family, grandparents aside, and everyone has long since written them off as sweet old weirdos. The only reason you don’t think the lingering gazes you share with Maeve are more action than your relatives have ever had is the existence of multiple generations of biological children.

You share a gaze now. Not because you’re actually into Maeve, although you’re not not into Maeve; you picked an attractive fake girlfriend. Tall, with an undercut and dark eyes and a crooked nose and muscley arms that sometimes you think would be really great for picking you up and throwing you onto a bed, before you remember this is fake and please brain do not.

The corner of Maeve’s mouth turns up. You look away, biting back a smile.

You would like to stand here not-smiling at Maeve all night—or at least until the end of the torturous family cookout, which hasn’t even technically started yet because your uncle decided to “help” Grandpa with the grill and ended up setting all the food on fire instead, and the second attempt at dinner just went on the grill three minutes ago—but you seriously have to pee. In lieu of food, you’ve downed three cans of Coke from the drinks fridge in the garage. You cross the kitchen, accidentally-on-purpose brush against Maeve as you exit, and head down the hall to the half bath.

When you come out, you hear voices. Snatches of words. Your mother and cousin-in-law, sitting in your grandma’s sewing room. They’re supposed to be organizing it for her, but instead they’re sitting on bolts of fabric, gossiping.

“...tried to tell me they’d found someone, but they look absolutely miserable with that girl they brought,” your mother says. With a jolt, you realize she’s talking about you. “Maybe they’ll sit together at dinner, but with how far apart they’ve been standing since they arrived, I doubt it. And that girl has been scowling at everyone.”

“She’s worse than Luc,” your cousin-in-law says smugly. “And god knows he has the worst resting bitch face I ever saw. Sometimes I don’t know why I fell in love with him. No offense.”

“None taken. He’s not my kid.”

You don’t even like Luc, but your fingers curl into fists. As usual, you wonder what the fuck you did in a past life to be born into a family of people who spend all their time hating each other.

“Anyway” —your cousin-in-law examines her nails, fresh from a day at the salon, where she surely treats the staff hellishly— “I don’t think it’ll last. They’ve hardly spoken two words to each other all afternoon.”

Your fists tighten. She’s one to talk. She and Luc have hardly spoken to each other since the day of their wedding; on the rare occasion you do hear them speak, they’re picking fights. She gushes about her perfect marriage to anyone who will listen when her husband isn’t around, but their marriage—your uncle’s marriage, your parents’ marriage, every marriage around you except your grandparents’—is exactly the reason you’ve been so reluctant to date. The reason you asked Maeve to fake being your girlfriend, so your relatives would stop offering to set you up with someone. They all make each other fucking miserable.

And they think you and Maeve won’t last?

Okay yeah sure fine, you and Maeve aren’t a thing in the first place. Not really. You’re neighbors, and coworkers, and maybe friends now.

But since Maeve agreed to fake-date you, you’ve shared more with her about yourself than you have with...anyone, maybe. Definitely more than you’ve shared with anyone in your family. Definitely more than they share with their respective spouses, or each other.

Silly things, mostly. You like it when the front door of a house is painted bright, aqua or magenta or chartreuse. Your favorite flowers are all the yellow ones, like dandelions or forsythia, even though otherwise you’re not that fond of yellow. You always like the sad songs and love ballads more than the fun, fast-paced songs that steal the show. Things that don’t matter, except that they do, because now Maeve points out all the brightly colored doors when you walk back to your apartment building together after a shift.

Your mother and cousin-in-law are still talking. The conversation has moved on now—apparently your uncle has cheated on his wife, again—but you’re angry. Your skin prickles. Your nails bite your palms. You could nudge the door open and confront them, but confrontation has never been your forte.

Instead, you tiptoe to the kitchen and touch Maeve’s back.

She half turns, an eyebrow quirked. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I just. I need you to come with me.”

“Why?” Maeve asks, but she’s already following you back down the hall.

“Because my relatives suck and I need you to kiss me.”

You stop far enough from the sewing room that your mother and cousin-in-law probably won’t hear you. You turn toward Maeve, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed. It hasn’t occurred to you that the words I need you to kiss me actually just crossed your lips. Maeve’s dark eyes flicker over you, but she mirrors your posture and waits.

“They’re all in shitty marriages,” you say in a low voice, “except my mom, because she’s in a shitty divorce that was so shitty it was almost as bad as the marriage, except that it was over faster. But because we’re not attached at the hip or making googly eyes at each other, they think my relationship with my new girlfriend is a dead-end that’s going to end before it’s begun.”

Maeve snorts. “Fuck them. I may not make googly eyes at my fake girlfriend, but they’re nuts if they think I wouldn’t go to the ends of the earth and back for my fake girlfriend. Or, like, bring home takeout every night after work, or always do the laundry because they hate doing laundry, or whatever.”

That gets you for a second, because okay yeah sure fine it’s all fake, but Maeve still just kind of said she’d go to the ends of the earth for you. And bring you takeout. And always do laundry, which honestly might as well be a marriage proposal, because someone doing the laundry so you don’t have to is well and truly your love language.

“So.” Maeve’s eyes rove over your face. “Not that I object to kissing you, but how exactly is kissing going to help this situation?”

Right. You asked her to kiss you. Or more accurately stated slightly desperately and angrily that you need her to kiss you. You tense, trying to sound cool and nonchalant when you’re now thinking about kissing Maeve.

“When my mom and cousin-in-law come out of that room,” you say, nodding back toward the sewing room, “I want them to see us kissing. Like, really kissing. You know.”

The corner of Maeve’s mouth lifts again. “Really kissing. Gotcha.”

You flush. “Yeah. That. I just. I want...” You want some really great kissing. Focus. “I want them to see that we’re actually fucking into each other and super affectionate with each other even if we don’t feel like turning it into a performance so everyone else will believe we’re in love.”

Maeve tilts her head. “Even though it’ll literally be a performance so everyone will believe we’re in love?”

Your flush deepens. “Yeah.”

Maeve shifts closer, her eyes flickering over you. God, her eyes. Dark and intense and always just a little bit sad.

“I think I can sell being fucking into you,” she says quietly.

Shit, you think vaguely, poor choice of words on your part, because fucking and you are the only things you can think now that Maeve has repeated them back to you. But the thought slips away, because now Maeve is an inch away, her tall body curving over you, and her hands are cupping your face and oh my god she is actually really for real going to kiss you.

Her lips brush over yours, soft and sweet. Your breath hitches.

The door opens down the hall. As your relatives step out of the sewing room, Maeve crushes your lips under hers. Her hands slip into your hair, your arms wind around her neck, you pull her down, closer, closer, and now you’re kissing her back, your fingers playing in her hair just because they can, your eyes closed, your skin glorying in the warmth of her breath, the press of her body against yours.

Behind you, Luc’s shitty wife makes a sound of disgust and says, “Oh my god, get a room!” Your mother hisses, “Do you want to give your grandmother a heart attack? Right outside her sewing room!”

But (a) your grandma is safely outside by the grill, far away from the sudden make-out session, and (b) your grandma, if she saw you kissing a pretty girl, would almost certainly say something along the lines of “isn’t that sweet!” or “good for them!” And frankly you don’t remember why it was important to kiss Maeve where your mother and cousin-in-law would see it. Or whether there was a point to kissing Maeve at all, unless kissing Maeve was the point.

Your brain is preoccupied with Maeve’s lips on yours, her hands cradling your head, your body crushed beneath hers. But as your relatives slink past and disappear, as the sliding door in the kitchen opens and slams, as Maeve goes on kissing you like her life depends on it, as you fail to say something along the lines of okay we can stop now—as you fail to say, in fact, anything at all—you think, distantly: maybe this dating is less fake than I thought.

[thequeenofthewinter]

Fic Friday

It's that day! That day and that time! I have a brand new chapter off the presses and ready to fall into your hands. With that being said, have a sad and heart-crushing snippet. It seems that in all this time writing, I have not learned to let my characters live in peace. Maybe someday! <3

Rating: E (canon-typical violence, explicit content, check the tags)

Genre: Romance, action, adventure, drama

Pairing: Dahlia Wintersnow (OC Dragonborn)/Ulfric Stormcloak

Link to AO3: An Invincible Summer

Snippet:

The letter is crushed in her hands forcefully.

“No.” She whispers with a shake of her head.

Ulfric turns to her, his eyes full of concern. “What does it say, my heart? Is it bad news? Will the mages not help us?”

Her face crumbles as her eyes squeeze shut, and she incinerates the paper in her hands, ashes staining her palms black. “Tolfdir has stated that he’d be more than happy to send some recruits, so there is no need to worry about that.” She swallows hard against the lump forming in her throat. “But they also want me to come speak about what happened in Solitude…”

“You do not have to do anything that you do not want to.”

“I know,” she shakes her head some more as if clearing her thoughts. “And I understand that they want to know how I did it, and I am sure you have your own guesses, but—I feel like there is a reason that information was lost. It is cursed. I am cursed.”

Tears begin to spill from her eyes as Ulfric’s face becomes a blur in front of her. She had thought she was done with all the crying. Done being sad. Done feeling like such a failure. And she supposes for the most part she is, but it is hard for her to move on when it feels like lately her life has been a constant reminder of the consequences of her actions. Dahlia presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, stars forming as she violently wipes the wetness away. She doesn’t have any right to be sad; this was of her own doing.

“Dahlia…” He rises from his chair to go to his wife and lead her to sit on their bed.

She doesn’t have the energy to fight him. She is too tired. Instead, she buries her head in his chest as she allows him to hold her in silence.

“What if it’s my fault, and we can’t have children because—”

Ulfric quiets her immediately, as he presses a kiss to the top of her head. “You can’t think like that, and it is not your fault. It is never your fault. It just takes time, and we have—”

“But our time is running out. The Moot is coming, and you need—”

He holds her tighter as he runs a calming hand through her hair. “I need nothing more than you. That is all I require. Please do not worry about anything more than that. It hurts me to see you torture yourself so.”

Dahlia pulls her head back from his shirt, the material soaked through with her tears, as she looks up to him. “You don’t mean that.”

He leans closer to her, making sure to hold her gaze. “I do, and I will continue proving it to you every day until you believe me. It’s just a matter of time. After all, I have been told that I am a charismatic bastard.”

His joke elicits a small smile and then a laugh from Dahlia as she rests her head on his shoulder. “I will hold you to that.”

[bubblyqueer000]

Danganronpa Prince of Diamonds: Prologue

This is an ishimondo series I've been developing for ages!! I'm so excited that I'll finally be releasing it!! I hope you enjoy the prologue!!!!! :D

WARNING!!!: While I have no trigger warning for this chapter, the rest of the series will go into extremely serious topics such as death, gore, torture, abuse, and many other things. Viewer discretion is advised for the rest of the story. Thank you!

To some, a peaceful night is a blessing. All across Utsunomiya Japan, the moonlight shone through every window, the workers were going home, and most children were asleep, aside from the daughter of a young college professor. It was a late Friday night, and for Naisho and the small girl in her care, that meant two days of no work, no school, and plenty of time for them to spend time together. The girl had lost count of how many stories her mother had read to her during the night of silly voices and cackling at the most minutely comedic dialogue. This night was anything but peaceful, but to them, it was the height of the week. Before either of them knew it, it was midnight.

“Can we pleeeeeaaaassse just finish the last chapter?” The girl insisted, grabbing the book back off her nightstand where Naisho had discarded it and holding it back towards her. Naisho took the small chapter book in her hand and cracked it open, trying to gauge the distance between the beginning of the epilogue and the end. It couldn’t have been more than two minutes of content and truth be told, Naisho found it to be quite the page-turner as well. The woman smiled.

“Alright, why not?” She sighed. The little girl cheered, bringing a smile to her mother's face. She took a gentle breath and read the page. “Finally, Lady was able to fulfill her lifelong dream. As she wandered through the many rooms of the Russian palace she now owned, she appreciated everything that led up to this very moment. It all began with a simple journey to find her mother’s will, which was hidden from her by her elder brother, Ivan, leading her to a life of underground gambling, and not only did she find what she had been looking for, but she also found a talent for gambling and a lot of fortune. She wasn’t quite sure of what had become of her brother, but she’d be lying if she said she cared much. Lady gazed out the vast, crystalline window in her bedroom as she prepared to retire for the night, having already had her servants braid her black locks into thick braids and change her into her silk nightgown. Outside was the most brilliant view. For miles, there was nothing but trees, mountains, and a sky full of stars. Lady felt she could stare out of it for hours, but then, something caught her eye. A figure on the outskirts of the black iron fence. For whatever reason, the figure startled yet comforted her. After a moment, she turned on her heels and called for one of her servants. ‘Excuse me, it would appear that there is someone at the gates, would you investigate that please?‘ She asked. With a bow, the servant accepted and made a swift break for the staircase. Lady returned to the window and after a moment, the figure turned to the radio beside the entrance. ‘Young Mistress?‘ a maid asked from the door. ‘There’s someone who would like to see you. Shall we let him in?’ Lady glanced back at her maid, then to the man at the gate. ‘Yes. Grant him entry.’ The end.” Said Naisho with a satisfied sigh.

“What?! That’s the end? We don’t even find out who’s at the door!” Her daughter shouted, sitting up in bed.

‘We all know who was at the gate, anyways, it’s not like she could get rid of Ivan for long.’ The mother wanted to reply.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait until tomorrow night to figure it out.” With a dissatisfied grunt, the small girl fell back into her pillow.

“Hey, Mommy.” She asked, to which her mother hummed in response. “Why was Lady so happy to live in her castle all by herself? I’d be sad if I couldn’t live with my family.” Naisho smiled a sweet smile, a smile that was quick to fade.

“So would I…” She sighed sadly. “But sometimes people who don’t deserve it aren’t treated the best by the world. Their loved ones may be killed, or they might be treated poorly by them, and then they do bad things that make the world worse. Which is why we can never give into despair. And that’s what I love about Lady. No matter what happens, she’s still a good girl. She’s so much stronger than I could ever be.” She glanced away, towards the window.

“Pfft! Why does everyone say you have to be all alone to be strong? I’d rather be strong with lots of people.” She said. Naisho looked at her daughter again, and bit by bit, the smile crept back to her face.

“That’s because you’re a good girl too.” Naisho kissed her forehead.

“Goodnight, Mommy.”

“Goodnight, Taeko.” And with that, the woman flicked off the light and left the room. Taeko glanced across her bed, the walls, and up to her window. Now the only source of light came from the full moon, which lit up the floor, the bedside table, and all the way up to the sleepy girl. She blinked, trying to convince herself to get up and draw the curtains. At last, she did so, ready to close them, when her eyes met another source of light, in the form of holographic letters. That book. Taeko picked it up from her nightstand and examined it. ‘The Lady Ludenberg by Celestia Discon’ she read. The names struck her in a way that she couldn’t explain. “Celestia… Celestia, Celestia, Celestia.” She whispered. “Lady Ludenberg… Ludenberg…” Her dilated eyes danced across the letters. Begrudgingly, she returned the book to the nightstand and returned to her spot on the bed, completely forgetting to close the curtains and simply rolling over, away from any light.

“Celestia… Celestia Ludenberg.”

[pjo-rewrite]

The Lightning Thief

Chapter One

I ACCIDENTALLY VAPORIZE MY PRE-ALGEBRA TEACHER

If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life.

Being a half-blood is dangerous. It's scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways.

If you're a normal kid, reading this because you think it's fiction, great. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened.

But if you recognize yourself in these pages-if you feel something stirring inside-stop reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that, it's only a matter of time before they sense it too, and they'll come for you.

Don't say I didn't warn you. My name is Percy Jackson.

I'm twelve years old. Until a few months ago, I was a boarding student at Yancy Academy with my sister, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York.

Are we a troubled kids? Yeah. You could say that.

I could start at any point in our short miserable lifes to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan- twenty-nine mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

I know it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were.

But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep.

I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once Atalanta or I wouldn't get in trouble. Boy, was I wrong.

See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind- the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that... Well, you get the idea.

This trip, I was determined to be good and keep Atalanta under check.

Atalanta Jackson, my younger sister, has horrible anger issues. Just look at her wrong, and she’ll punch you; straight up. She’s technically supposed to be in fifth grade but Yancy Academy had realised that she actually listens to me; Sometimes. Which was better than none I guess, so they put her in most of the same classes as me. She has dark brown hair that she normally had in two nicely plaited braids, murky green eyes— maybe teal-ish if you looked close enough. Anyways, I didn’t really want to be put in charge of her, which didn't help my mood.

All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades, because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwich that stuck in his curly brown hair, and she knew I couldn't do anything back to her because I was already on probation. The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.

"I'm going to kill her," I mumbled.

Grover tried to calm me down. "It's okay. I like peanut butter."

He dodged another piece of Nancy's lunch. But it fell on my sister.

"That's it." Atalanta started to get up, but Grover pulled her back to her seat.

"You're both already on probation," he reminded us. "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."

Looking back on it, I wish Atalanta had decked Nancy Bobofit right then and there. In-school suspension would've been nothing compared to the mess we were about to get ourselves into.

***

Mr. Brunner led the museum tour.

He rode up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery.

It blew my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years.

He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone col-umn with a big sphinx on the top, and started telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year, when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown.

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured I was devil spawn. She would point her crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month. It was a good thing Atalanta couldn't take that class.

One time, after she'd made me erase answers out of old math workbooks until midnight, I told Grover I didn't think Mrs. Dodds was human. He looked at me, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."

Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art.

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickered something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turned around and said, "Will you shut up?"

Atalanta nuged me. It had came out louder than I meant it to.

The whole group laughed. Mr. Brunner stopped his story.

"Mr. Jackson," he said, "did you have a comment?"

My face was totally red. I said, "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

I looked at the carving, and felt a flush of relief, because I actually recognized it. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because ..." "Well..." I racked my brain to remember. "Kronos was the king god, and-" "God?" Mr. Brunner asked.

"Titan," Atalanta called out. "He didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So Kronos ate them. But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters-"

"Eeew!" said one of the girls behind us.

"-and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," Atalanta continued, "and the gods won."

Some snickers from the group. It would probably help you to know by now that Atalanta has a slight accent. French/New York combo accent to be more specific. So, I had to admit, she sounded funny when she talked.

Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbled to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner said, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover muttered.

"Shut up," Nancy hissed, her face even brighter red than her hair.

At least Nancy got packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears.

I thought about his question, looked to Atalanta for help but she was just looking at Mr. Brunner with a glare. I gave up and shrugged. "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looked disappointed. "Well, half credit, Jacksons. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifted off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doo-fuses.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. Jackson."

I knew that was coming.

I told Grover and Atalanta to keep going. Then I turned toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?"

Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go- intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything.

"You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner told me. "About the Titans?"

"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."

"What you learn from me," he said, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

I wanted to get angry, this guy pushed me so hard.

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!'" and challenged us, sword-point against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C- in my life. No-he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

This was probably why Atalanta didn't like him, it was bad enough that she only started to understand how to speak English, fully, three years ago, but reading it was a whole different thing.

I mumbled something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner took one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He told me to go outside and eat my lunch.

***

The class gathered on the front steps of the museum, where we could watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seemed to notice. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds wasn't seeing a thing.

I saw Grover and Atalanta sitting on the edge of the fountain— away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school-the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere— having a heated conversation; they never seemed to get along, well Atalanta that is. Didn't know what her problem was. I went and sat on the edge of the fountain in between them and they stopped their bickering.

"Detention?" Grover asked.

"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean-I'm not a genius."

No one said anything for a while. Then, when I thought that Grover was going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he said, "Can I have your apple?"

I didn't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.

I watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and thought about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sat. I hadn't seen her since Christmas. I wanted so bad to take Atalanta, jump in a taxi and head home. She'd hug us and be glad to see us, but she'd be disappointed, too. She'd send us right back to Yancy, remind me that we had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I wouldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me. I had to be a good example for Atalanta.

Why be a good example for Atalanta? Two reasons:

1) Atalanta had stumbled into my mom's work and brought her home with her that night. Atalanta had been six, knew no English, and dirty. Really dirty. So my mom took her in after translating French to English about how she had ran away form "A bad place." And 2) I’m her older brother.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized cafe table.

I was about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appeared in front of me with her ugly friends-I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists-and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grinned at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles were orange, as if somebody had spray- painted her face with liquid Cheetos.

I tried to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." But I was so mad my mind went blank. A wave roared in my ears.

I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!" "Severes you right!" Atalanta yelled back at her.

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see-" "-the water-" "-like it grabbed her-"

I didn't know what they were talking about. All I knew was that I was in trouble again.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turned on me. There was a tri-umphant fire in her eyes, as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey-"

"I know," I grumbled. "A month erasing workbooks." That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds said.

"Wait!" Atalanta and Grover yelled at the same time. "It was me. I pushed her." Atalanta finished.

I stared at her, stunned. I couldn't believe she was trying to cover for me. She almost never covered for me.

She glared at her so hard she trembled. "Fine, come along Jacksons." Ms. Dodds said.

"Wait-" Grover called out.

"It's okay, man," I told him.

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barked at us. "Now."

Nancy Bobofit smirked.

Atalanta gave Nancy her deluxe 'I'll-kill-you-later' stare. Then we turned to face Mrs. Dodds, but she wasn't there. She was standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

How'd she get there so fast?

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things. Atalanta had it too; supposedly.

I wasn't so sure.

We went after Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, I glanced back at Grover. He was looking pale, cutting his eyes between us and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner was absorbed in his novel.

I looked back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She was now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

Okay, I thought. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop. But apparently that wasn't the plan.

We followed her deeper into the museum. When we finally caught up to her, we were back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery was empty.

Mrs. Dodds stood with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She was making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds, even if Atalanta was right next to me. Something about the way she looked at the frieze, as if she wanted to pulverize it...

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she said.

I did the safe thing. I said, "Yes, ma'am."

She tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?" The look in her eyes was beyond mad. It was evil.

She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt me.

I said, "I'll-I'll try harder, ma'am." Thunder shook the building.

"We are not fools, Percy and Atalanta, Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

I didn't know what she was talking about. I looked to Atalanta. Her eyes were blown wide and she looked frozen in fear, her hand over her charm on her necklace. She seemed to be mumbling something that I couldn't understand.

All I could think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

"Well?" she demanded. "Ma'am, I don't..."

"Your time is up," she hissed.

Then the weirdest thing happened. Her eyes began to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretched, turning into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn't human. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

Atalanta pulled on her necklace and then she had a sword?!

"Come on bird brain! He doesn't know about anything! Come at me!" Atalanta yelled at Ms. Dodds.

Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy!" he shouted, and tossed the pen through the air. Mrs. Dodds lunged at me.

With a yelp, I dodged and felt talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatched the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hit my hand, it wasn't a pen anymore. It was a sword-Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always used on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees were jelly. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the sword.

She snarled, "Die, honey!"

And she flew straight at me.

Absolute terror ran through my body and I heard a cry from where Atalanta was. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swung the sword.

The metal blade hit her shoulder and passed clean through her body as if she were made of water. Hisss!

Mrs. Dodds was a sand castle in a power fan. She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me.

I was alone.

Atalanta was no where to be seen. There was a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner wasn't there. Nobody was there but me.

My hands were still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or some-thing.

Had I imagined the whole thing? I went back outside.

It had started to rain.

Grover and Atalanta were sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over their heads. Nancy Bobofit was still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she saw me, she said, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

I said, "Who?"

"Our teacher. Duh!"

I blinked. We had no teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I asked Nancy what she was talking about. She just rolled her eyes and turned away.

I asked Atalanta why she’d left, and when she’d said “What are you talking about?” I instead turned to asking them where Mrs. Dodds was.

They said, "Who?"

But they paused first, and neither of them would look at me, so I thought they were messing with me.

"Not funny, guys," I told them. "This is serious."

Thunder boomed overhead.

I saw Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book, as if he'd never moved.

I went over to him.

He looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

I handed Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it. "Sir," I said, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stared at me blankly. "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

[butterflydustsarchive]

´ ･ . * 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 ...

ft. miller banks. / @lcnelylullabies​.

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧.

it’s a picture taken from an exhibit she and miller went to together. it was probably one of the best days of her life and she likes to keep it as her lockscreen just to remember it (and because there’s no way ben’s going to do something like with her with her like ever).

'𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞' 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

a mini playlist she listens to while laying on the floor in agony featuring... 

quiet light by the national

nobody gets me by sza

about you by the 1975 

bigger than the whole sky by taylor swift

everything by MUNA

smoke signals by phoebe bridgers

francis forever by mitski

last kiss by taylor swift

𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭.

a collection of unsent texts stored in the notes app of her phone. 

text, 1:35am ( unsent ) :

tonight was such a shitty night. ben and i fought about the dumbest shit and i feel so fucking small and stupid and like i won’t ever do anything right and i just wish i could see you. and that’s so fucked because it’s not fair and i know i can’t just run to you after every little thing happens now but i just really need to hear your voice again. i’m too scared to call you though in case you don’t pick up even though i wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t i just miss you and i love you, you know? i really really do love you, miller, and i wish i told you that that night because i don’t know what to do without you. i feel so empty and miserable and everything is just wrong and i regret it all so fucking much and i’m so fucking sorry i think i’ll regret that night for the rest of my life

text, 3:49am ( unsent ) : 

i took a walk earlier tonight around all our old favorite places just to torture myself i guess and now i can’t shut my eyes without seeing you. and i like seeing you, but i also miss you so much that it hurts to see you since i know it’s not real … if that makes sense ? obviously i can’t sleep right now and all i want to do is call you and ask if you remember that night we ditched that weird costume party early (it wasn’t even halloween? i still think that we were about to get initiated into a cult tbh) and got super lost walking home … i hope you do because all i can think about is how i laughed so hard i honestly thought i might puke all over your shoes but it didn’t even matter and i didn’t even care that we had no fucking clue where we were, i was just happy that i was with you. god, i wanted to stay lost with you forever, i think. i don’t know if i’ll ever feel like that again, you know? i don’t think i’ll ever find anyone else like you. don’t think i want anyone else besides you, though

text, 6:01pm ( unsent ) : 

i wish you were here. i wish i could just… god, i don’t know, just fucking see you, somehow. remember that night i came back to your place after my first date with ben? how i just walked in your apartment and crawled in bed with you? i wish i could do that, now. i wish i could do that every day, honestly, just come home and lay with you and listen to you read to me and fall asleep to the sound of your voice. i don’t know what i could offer you besides a non-burnt meal every once in a while but i genuinely don’t think i’ve ever been as happy as when i was with you, no matter what we were doing or where we were. it always felt so real, you know? real and good and right and it doesn’t feel like any of that, anymore. i hope it does for you, though, that it exists for you outside of us. i just want you to be happy, more than anything

text, 12:16am ( unsent ) : 

it’s officially your birthday and i don’t know if i should actually text you or not or if that would make things worse but i’m sad thinking about how this will be one of the first birthdays in a long time that we won’t be together, no joint party or anything. i never really loved birthdays or birthday parties until i met you because at least then i had someone to commiserate with, you know? i didn’t have to pretend to be okay with all the attention and be excited and happy that i was getting older, with you. i miss our little party that we through for just us,  and you. think i might go to the library today just to feel like i’m close to you somehow, or maybe i’ll see if that new bookstore we used to walk by is finally open and i’ll buy you something even though i have no idea when you’ll ever get it. sounds kind of depressing now that i think about it so maybe i’ll just lay in the floor instead (happy birthday i love you)

text, 11:43pm ( unsent ) :

fuck, miller, i really miss you. i miss kissing you and feeling your skin on mine and your fingers on my waist and thigh and how i always felt so beautiful when you looked at me in that way you did and how you smelled and tasted and sounded and god, it wasn’t only ever just about sex for me but it was good, wasn’t it? it was always more than just sex. i know i’m not doing myself any favors thinking about you like this but i can’t help it. do you touch anybody like you used to touch me? does anybody touch you like i used to? it’s not anything like how it was with you with him. it’s not right, but i always just end up faking it so it can be over, and then i lay there while he sleeps and wonder what the fuck is wrong with me for hours on end. it’s so fucking embarrassing!!!!! i try to pretend it’s you sometimes when he touches me to see if it helps but it’s not the same and it won’t ever be the same because anyone could touch me but they’re not you. they’ll never be you and i think i’m okay with you being the only person i’ll ever have that with 

text, 7:22pm ( unsent ) :

im hiding in the bathroom at thsi stupid fancy dinner for my parents and maaaaaybe im very drunk already but wow is this not absolutely fucking unbearable ! i hate it hwen ben looks at me or tries to hold my hand its always so sweaty and weird i hate having to pretend that i love him and that im sooo excited to marry him when im not! im really fucking not. i cant even imagine being his wife because i love you and you’re all i fuckgin think about and i jsut. i dont knwo what to do without you miller i don’t know how to exist and feel okay about it or even pretend that i’m okay with it when i’ve never been more fucking miserable in my life and i dont want to marry him i want you . all i ever fuckign want is you and if it were you that asked me i wouldve said yes and i would've meant it evne now or when we’re old. i wouldve and im sorry im a wreck i dont know why you love me but ill always want you even if im with him

[jodilin65]

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1997 I guess I’ll do some writing now. Let’s see…Mary and Dave came over to get Tom’s bed. I was asleep while they were here, but Tom showed them the animals. I’m glad that they finally got to see them and the way things are now set up. Especially Mary.

Ma gave us one of her recliners and this thing isn’t just a recliner. It’s a massage recliner. The seat and the back vibrate. It’s really nice and we needed it, too, cuz the recliner that goes with this couch has really fallen apart. It’s out on the patio till it’s time for the city to pick it up (we’ll have to look on the calendar to see when that is) and the cats are using it for now at night.

Speaking of cats, we discussed getting a trap to trap Mama Cat and then bringing her to wherever. That way we won’t have to deal with so many litters and I won’t miss this wild, mean bitch of a cat.

That we know of, they still haven’t been a problem as far as loud music is concerned but I heard other sounds at 11:30. It was the sound of plastic and metal scraping along their back patio. Something big and plastic, too, but the metal might’ve been the dog’s chain. I got the impression that whoever it was, was pissed and hoping to wake someone up over here, but who knows? I also still have my doubts as to the city contacting them. I think that as soon as they got the letter, it went into the garbage.

I changed the mice’s setup around again a while ago and what a cute show Tom missed! The babies were all bouncy, hyper and playful. It was so cute and as for the adults, Ziggy’s a playful one, too, and jumps around when she’s happy like Bunny and Spunky do. Unfortunately, I’m not as happy as my animals are. I haven’t full-flowed yet, but have upgraded to spots and a bit more cramping. The thing about it is the reality of knowing that there’s no way I could be pregnant and that I will have a full flow within the next 24-48 hours. God, why must you torture, control and deprive me of following my dream and my every instinct!? When it comes to something more than just hobbies, pets and marriage, can we ever agree on what I want? Like I said, if I woke up wanting to do anything else just as bad, God would see to it that I couldn’t do it.

This really, really is gonna be how the rest of my life is gonna be. This really is gonna be an issue all my life and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. My husband will always stall and make excuses for why we should wait to see a doctor. There’s always one more thing we’ve got to give a chance. One more thing that’s just got to be the answer. Well, this is bullshit and I’m sick of it. And he’s not the only one afraid of a doctor. We’re just afraid for different reasons. He doesn’t want to go to a doctor cuz he doesn’t really want a kid or to discuss our sexual relations with strangers. I’m afraid of what God would do to me for going against him and I’m also virtually certain that there’s nothing they could do for us. First of all, they couldn’t make Tom cum regularly. Secondly, if they could make me pregnant by some procedure, how can they make me stay that way for 9 months?

I feel totally alone here. I feel as if Tom just doesn’t want to deal with it and never has and never will. All he does is tell me year after year that things will work out and where are we now? Just where we’ve always been. The only change is that he’s cum occasionally for the last year and a half, and we share a bed. That’s better than nothing, but it’s not enough. And I still say that he could cum every day, but - something’s wrong with me. Even though he hasn’t cum but maybe 15 times, those 15 shots and all the years of precum should’ve done the trick by now. Nobody could miss it like this if they tried.

When they begin fertility testing on a woman, they usually start by sticking a dye up there. I don’t know what this dye is supposed to test, but usually, that’s all you need. If I heard right, the most common cause of infertility in women is clogged fallopian tubes. I’m not stupid, though, and I know my problem goes way beyond just clogged fallopian tubes. God will do anything and everything to ensure I never have a child.

Even if it does get easier with time, it’s still hard enough and it eases up so gradually. I feel like it’ll take 10 years to pass by before I can really live with it without it getting me down once every month or two like it does.

Tom just got up, so I feel a bit better. He reminded me that the primary reason for us switching insurance, as well as getting the bed, was so that we could do something if we need to, but meanwhile, let’s just have fun throughout December. It sounds good, but I’ve heard things like this before.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 1997 Just when I think my periods are out of new tricks to pull, they pull new ones. The night before last, I had faint, light, microscopic beginnings of a period. The kind that is even smaller and less apparent than spots. They’re more like a milky reddish-pink color and you really have to strain your eyes to see any of these kinds of spots. Well, never has my period tried to begin, then had 48 hours go by without a full flow by then. I had had cramps, too, but even those have eased up. My boob soreness has eased up a bit, but not much. I wish I could say it was a baby and that God never did intend to deny us a child and that he was just waiting for the right time and that the sudden ability to quit smoking and the new bed really was a stage set for a baby after all, but dreams are just that - dreams.

Speaking of the bed, though, I had been all bummed out and frustrated, feeling like we made a mistake and that it could never work out. Tom said that it’ll take time, but that I’ll adjust to sleeping in it together and I guess he was right on that one. He got into bed with me already asleep in it and didn’t wake me up!

Thank you, freeloader. I was just about to forget to update him, but he just reminded me to with a good, deliberate, hard slam of his car door. As far as we know, there hasn’t been any music, but again, is this cuz of the dog? Cuz of some other reason? Cuz of the city letter? I highly doubt the city contacted them and I still don’t think they ever will. Either way, though, the music will be a problem again, as always, in just a matter of time. That’s when I’ll make my final move and never have to worry about it again and it’ll never be a problem again.

Andy went out of his way to make an extra trip over here, which was nice. I had thought we wouldn’t exchange stuff till we saw each other again. However, he dropped off some coffee coupons and some clothes Laura didn’t want and put them out back while I was asleep. The clothes were mostly tank tops and halters and I like just about all 10 pieces or so, except for a couple of sweaters.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1997 I was pleasantly wrong when I said it’d be a not-too-peaceful day. It’s been quite peaceful and I slept just fine. The freeloaders actually went elsewhere for Turkey Day. I heard them come in at 10:30 PM (no music). I’m just glad Thanksgiving isn’t in the summer, cuz then they probably would party hearty. I used to like the summers best of all cuz it’d drive everyone indoors but not these freeloaders. They’re out and about more when it’s hot and their dog will bark more, too, when the summer nights return.

Tom set up the satellite dish and I really like this Direct TV a lot. It’s really cool and you set up things on a screen that’s a lot like a computer. It is simpler for the most part, but there are so many different things you can do and so many different ways to do them. My favorite part of it is the '70s and '80s commercial-free radio stations. On-screen it says the title/artist, but I run audio tapes on his stereo that’s hooked up to it and record stuff. Then I screen them and pick out anything I may want.

I asked Tom, “So, is this gonna be my last period for about a year?”

He said, “That’s what I th-yes.”

Well, that sounds awfully unsure and suspicious. I know he’s full of shit, but anyway, my period hasn’t shown up for real, if you know what I mean, but I’m sure it’ll be more than a faint spot or two when I next wake up.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 1997 Had another weak/spoiled spell a little while ago, but as with cigarette cravings, baby cravings pass, too, if you tough them out. Like my mother has to believe the DES saved my life for her mental peace of mind, I have to believe I don’t deserve a child. In a way, this is true, though. I’m blessed with enough things so what’s to say I really do deserve one? I also have to believe that God does know best and is doing what’s right and that he’s not just punishing me. I have to believe he’s just looking out for me and doing what would be in the best interest of any child we could’ve ever had. So when it gets tough, I just tell myself that I’m not worthy of it, nor could I have ever handled it.

Speaking of babies (all mice deserve babies over a few of us humans, huh?), one of Ziggy’s babies wandered out of the burrow. I picked it up for a while and am calling it Spot since its tail has a few faint spots on it.

I guess Teddy Bear’s getting old. He came down earlier, but he wheels less and less and spends the bulk of his time sleeping his life away up in his high-rise.

Later…

See? The desire to have a child is getting less and less and not lasting as long when they do come. I feel much better. I just reminded myself of what my life would be like with a child and what a shitty mother I’d be, and now I feel better. It’s been the longest time since I’ve shed tears over it. Just when it seemed like it would never get easier to deal with and stay that way, it finally is. Meaning, since knowing Tom, I’d say that fall of this year, was when it started getting noticeably easier. It’ll keep getting easier with each year, too. I still intend to be strong and be totally over it someday, too. Lastly, I must really, really love my husband. I already forgive him for the pregnant-in-December-for-sure lie.

I told Tom about yesterday morning’s barking fit and how the dog ran down the end of the driveway, but he doesn’t think the leash is extended that far. He thinks that the only reason I saw the dog was cuz it got loose and that it can’t reach our house. Well, maybe they do keep it in the yard at night after all, cuz the freeloader didn’t park his car deep into the carport tonight. I peeked out and saw its tail end sticking out of the carport and if there was a dog leashed to it, I didn’t see it.

Later…

I’m kind of bummed out right now. You could say it’s part PMS, part life.

God seems to want me to only sleep straight through for a few days at a time, then I gotta get woken up. Just 3 hours into my sleep, Tom accidentally woke me up as he was setting up the satellite for Direct TV. His end of it was an accident, but how much God-influence was there? After a while and two Benadryl’s, I fell back asleep. He woke me up again when it was his bedtime, but I had had enough sleep by then. I know that his climbing into bed after me is gonna wake me up, but if only I could know that I could go back to sleep. I don’t think I can and furthermore, I’ll be woken up numerous times after that when he moves and snores. I kind of think this bed was a mistake and that we threw away $1000 when what we should’ve done was get two twin beds and lay them side by side. Maybe normal isn’t so nice after all.

I guess that if there are any signs or messages in the fact that I’ve been woken up more in the last few weeks than I have in the whole year, it’s God reminding me that I could never handle getting up every hour for a baby, so don’t think that just cuz I quit smoking, he’s gonna change his mind and reward me with that. Oh, there’s no way in hell I could handle having to constantly get up for a crying baby (even though I still kind of wish he’d let me have a kid and make me be able to handle it), but still, that choice should’ve been mine. Maybe I’d have been wise enough to do the right thing on my own and not get pregnant, but God never even gave me that choice. Instead, he made my decisions for me, as far as if I’ll ever have a kid.

Speaking of rewards, well, I know this will sound selfish, but I was hoping that God would give me some kind of reward for quitting smoking. Quitting smoking is the hardest thing I ever did. It’s a daily challenge that I’ll have to live with every day for the rest of my life if I continue not to smoke. I understand he can’t give me a child for it, but what about letting me be thin again? What about being a heavier sleeper, so I could sleep through more noise and Tom’s movements? What about a better and full-time sex life? It’s like he just doesn’t care. He hasn’t even noticed that I’ve quit smoking.

Another thing on my mind is Tom. How can anyone be so loving and be such a bold and casual liar at the same time? Knowing my husband’s about to hurt me yet again with his lies, is something I’m used to, but I still don’t like it. A part of it is my fault, too, for letting him set me up to play me for the fool that I’ll be throughout December. When it comes to certain things, my husband will always say what I want to hear, even if it’s bullshit.

Not that I’d ever have the guts to see a doctor about my sterility since you can’t fight fate, but it still hurts me to know that Tom will always be in denial and won’t admit that there’s a problem with the sex and with me physically, and therefore, I’d never have had the slightest shot at a child, anyway. What I don’t know is - what’s he gonna change his “everything will work out and we’ll have a kid” line to when I’m out of my childbearing years? Let me guess - it’ll be - “There was just no opportunity!”

I wonder something, too. Could Tom be taking any kind of spermicide drugs? I can’t think of what he could take while keeping it discreet from me, but you never do know.

I wish to hell my schedule was on days. Those freeloaders are never gonna let me sleep tomorrow!

Later…

My period is just beginning so I won’t be feeling so out of it for too much longer. Boy, God just does not want us to hit it right for sure! I know, I know, I couldn’t handle it anyway and he doesn’t want to help me be able to handle it, let alone be able and allowed to conceive.

The HS sent more address labels. A couple of different dog pictures and a couple of different cat pictures.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1997 Yup, these fuckaroos next door are definitely afraid of someone. And they’re afraid for their physical selves a lot more than the house. Cuz if they were afraid for the house, they could have the dog be able to reach all points of the house during the daytime, too, but instead, they have it in the backyard only. At night, it’s chained to the car and it can reach just about all 4 sides of their house and I was wrong when I said it couldn’t. Get it? As if to keep someone they fear away from them.

Although these are the kinds of people that tend to attract many enemies, the only one I can think of that they could be afraid of is me. It’s been said that when I verbally let someone have it, that’s scary enough with my loud, viscous mouth and my temper being the way it is, and this dog first arrived right after I screamed at them last summer. So they didn’t just get the dog to piss me off, they got it for protection.

At 6:30 AM it went on a barking spree and for the second time that I know of, it went charging down the driveway, then came back up again. Shortly after, I heard a car door that suggested they put it in the backyard for the day.

Well, the knowledge that it could roam the front wall of our house if it wanted to scares the shit out of me and I wonder just how legal this is, too. I also wonder if there’s some other reason for this besides any fear they could have. Are they hoping it bites us? Or are they trying to make it more tempting for me to hurt the dog so they can go to court? Well, if it came on our property and hurt us here, we have a right to kill it.

Thank God I’m caught up on my sleep, since Thursday’s Turkey Day. He lives here, that’s a holiday, which means it’s gonna be anything but peaceful around here.

Later…

The Sony Satellite dish came today and I got another 80s CD, too.

Boy did I count wrong! I couldn’t see Shy’s babies too well in the burrow that they’re in and with the adults sitting on them. However, I got a glimpse of them just now and there are way more than two babies. More like 6 babies! And Cocoa’s definitely next. She’s starting to show now and is having trouble climbing.

We could have mice for the rest of our lives at this point.

Ziggy’s two are starting to move around now, but they haven’t wandered out of the burrow yet.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1997 Shy had her babies. It looks like there are two of them, but I can’t tell for sure and I don’t want to go poking around and disturbing them. Same rule applies - gotta leave them alone for a couple of weeks. This is perfect timing, though, since I just cleaned their cages. I could work around them, though, like I just did. As when Ziggy had her two, Cocoa and Ziggy are helping Shy out and they’re all cleaning them and sitting on them to keep them warm in shifts. Shy had hers where Ziggy’s babies are. I thought she’d either have them there or in the maze. Anyway, if they want them moved, they can pick their tails up in their mouths and move them. The first batch is really starting to look like teeny tiny mice now and their eyes are just starting to open.

There’s no way I could be blessed with these babies being females like the adults are, so I’ll have to do some decision-making in a couple of weeks. Even though their living quarters could hold 100 mice, more like 15-20 mice are enough for me and would be nice, but I’ll have to keep it at just the 3 adults, plus whatever babies are female, and give the males to pet stores. Or maybe we can let the population grow to 15-20, then give to pet stores anything else after that. If I did that, though, the fathers would have to be separated from the babies cuz they’d eat them. Gross!

I just realized something about the freeloader. Naturally, I know that the reason why I’m not seeing a car there overnight since the dog’s return is cuz it’s deep in the carport cuz the dog’s rigged to it. Its leash, according to Tom is about 25’ long. Well, I was wondering how in one bark it could sound like it was in the carport, then sound like it wasn’t in the next bark. Well, it’s become obvious that only when they’re asleep, they’ve got it rigged to the car, but not with just a few feet of slack like it did when I went off about its 2 AM fit. Now it’s got an extension. Not 25’, of course, cuz then it could reach our doorstep and they certainly wouldn’t want that. However, they’ve got it so that it can just get to the front wall of their house. This is something they’ve never done till after the screaming match, so maybe I’m not the only one who’s not living in peace. Maybe they fear me doing something to the house or the dog and feel safer if the dog can cover more wall space of the house. Or they may want me to do something, as I said, to have an excuse to drag me into court. They can’t care that much about this dog and them ditching it cuz of the work they did over there is another thing proving that (unless she’s not supposed to have a dog), cuz they could’ve kept it in the house, then taken it out front or down the street to do its job. Anyway, maybe they really are afraid of me and just like I live in stress cuz of them, they live in fear cuz of me.

I hear the mice squeaking now. Yes, they make those sounds, too, but it’s more like a soft, high chirp actually.

My tits are so, so sore and I’m glad I only have 4-6 days before I get some relief. Of course, if I get relief on Saturday when no fertile woman should who has a guy get off in her 14 days prior like I did, Tom will still be running around saying everything’s OK. Fine. Let him.

Later…

The more I think about this fuck-up for a mailman we’ve got, the more I wonder if the Nicorette people will cancel the next two things I’m supposed to get in the mail or not. All cuz of someone’s lack of caring and hastiness to not read properly. So that’s what he’s doing now, huh? Instead of giving us other people’s mail, he’s giving other people our mail.

Later…

Some lonely dude, desperate for attention went blaring down the street so incredibly loud a couple of hours ago. Even louder than next door.

I’m pleased to say that I did get what I was supposed to get from the Nicorette Company today after all. I guess I was a week off in assuming when it’d be here. Anyway, it said: Congratulations Jodi, you made it 6 weeks! It also had tips on cutting back on the Nicorette gum.

I talked to Paula a couple of days ago, too, who was telling me how condemned it was where she was living when she was living in Puerto Rico. Justin’s father is from there, so they lived out there for a few months. The father’s back in the States now, too.

I’ve still been getting fairly regular messages from my folks, which is nice. She’s gonna be sending Tom out something soon.

I offered my parents the address and number at Mary’s and she said to send it, so I did. They know, though, that the house hasn’t been sold yet and that she’s not completely moved into Mary’s yet. When Ma does put the house up for sale, it should go fast, cuz she’s not asking for much for it. It’s a tiny rundown place, anyway, and just like Oswego Street was in Puerto Rico, her place is in Mexico. It’ll almost certainly be a Mexican family with 9 little kids that’ll move into her place, so I hope she’s not gung-ho about having Tom fix up too much of it. A Mex will take anything and besides, they’ll only tear the place up.

Again I woke up at 113, but I know I’m not gonna be losing weight. First off, I just don’t “feel” like I’m going to and second off, the way it fluctuates from 113-115 tells me I won’t. Usually, when I go to lose weight, it drops to whatever and stays there for a while. Then it drops again to stay for a while, and on and on. However, I’m just bouncing back and forth on a steady plateau.

When I look at how Cocoa’s looking lately, I wonder if there’ll be any more “mice droppings” but we’ll see.

I began to have a spoiled/weak spell yesterday about the kid I’ll never have. It’s sort of like cigarette cravings, though, and if I just tough it out, it’ll pass. Just like the reality of why I shouldn’t smoke helps me, the reality that I could never handle a child helps me, too.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 1997 That fucking mailman! Never have I had such a mail problem in all the places I’ve lived. During week 6 of quitting smoking, I was supposed to get another mailing from the Nicorette company, but I never got it.

Anyway, to get the freeloaders updated and out of the way first, the music hasn’t been much of a problem yet and the dog’s been better than expected. This is all subject to change, I know. That dog came in here as not much of a big deal, then became a big deal, and is now back to being more tolerable.

I am not looking forward to Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s around here. Cuz he’ll be next door, it’ll be wild with visitors. Last year was peaceful, but that’s cuz he wasn’t living here for those holidays.

Andy and Michelle came to get the waterbed today and tentatively, Mary will be getting the other bed next Saturday.

The security door’s here too, but of course it’ll be a month or more before Tom can put it up. Things have been hectic, and there are never enough hours in at least Tom’s day. He’s also always tired still and complains of something new hurting him every day. All this has me more and more comfortable with my sterility and with the fact that my husband’s a joker. I am getting - shall I say - to like myself as a whole more and more. As I learn to accept and like myself, sterility and all, I feel more confident as a sterile/childless woman. More so than I have since knowing Tom.

As I may have said before, I may wonder periodically throughout our lives what life with a child would’ve been like (except for the obvious parts of that), and I may still want a child to a degree, but I have enough responsibilities and he has more than enough, and I want him to be as happy as he can be. I also think that people should have some things that they want, be it a little or a lot, that they just can’t get. Cuz that way, it keeps us from becoming too spoiled/selfish, to not have everything we’ve ever wanted. People like the sick fucks next door must be used to having most everything their way.

Our schedules are still opposite each other so we haven’t really slept together yet, so I don’t know if it’ll work out well. I don’t expect it to be fun, therefore, I may not bother to try to always be on his schedule. That way, I can catch up on my sleep when his schedule’s different than mine.

Friday night we went out to Old America where I got two puzzles and two more drawing books to use as demos. Since I’m naturally good at things like flowers and cartoon characters, and am not as good at people and realistic animals, these are the things that the books pertain to.

Shy’s gonna drop babies any second now, so I created a really neat setup for all the mice and T-Bear. T-Bear now lives with the big guys. I have a strip of solid wood that I’ve got going across the hutch. Resting on this is the smallest Play City cage. On one side of it, I have a hideaway and a high-rise stemming off. On the other side, is a long tube that goes down into the hutch where the big wheel is. The tube goes behind Spunky’s burrow, making it less accessible for the big guys to chew on.

I moved the babies under a burrow in the cage that is above the aquarium. I thought that they’d all be comfier there and there I can get a stable water supply. I can also get a stable water supply in the other cage, but not in the aquarium. The Velcro that’s supposed to hold the bottle holder to the corner sides is just too worn out.

I also shredded paper and put clumps in each corner of the maze and it was so cool how they dragged it all to the center of it. I did this so that Shy would have a nest of her own to use for her babies if she wanted to.

Cocoa and Ziggy move around to all parts of their 3 houses and maze, but Shy won’t be getting around till she delivers.

Is this nose of mine ever gonna feel the effects of not smoking as my lungs have? Better to have clearer lungs than a clearer nose. I know it’s allergy season out here and it’s better than wheezing like hell, but my nose is really no different than when I smoked.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1997 Something must be going on a few blocks or so away. It sounds like a fucking kennel out there.

The freeloader is up to his usual shit. Slowly building up his music volume. Typical freeloader never fails, does he? He’s quiet for 3 days after he’s asked to lower his music and then it’s back to the same old shit. No wonder so many people hate freeloaders. They just don’t give a shit about anyone but themselves.

He left at noon with it at a mediocre volume, but I know that by this weekend it’ll be blaring and he’ll sit and play it in the driveway.

I told Tom just two weeks is all he’s getting. Then when nothing solves the problem, I will. In a way, this is my fault too, cuz I should’ve taken care of this problem nearly two years ago when it began. Like I said, when it comes to accomplishing some things in life, it’s up to us and us alone to accomplish them.

Up till yesterday, it seemed like we had swapped off here. The dog hasn’t been that big of a problem yet, but my hopes of not having to deal with both the music and the dog were obviously a waste of time. I wondered if it could have anything to do with the city contacting them, but no way. First of all, the city’s either never going to contact them about it, or they’ll just turn around and respond to us saying there’s nothing they can do. Secondly, even if it were possible that the city could and would do something about it, it would take a while.

The bottom line is this - the city can’t stand guard in their driveway all the time to make sure the music’s down or that he isn’t living there, but I can come close to doing that. I don’t give a shit whether or not he lives there. All I give a shit about is the music.

A couple of days ago, Tom bought us a few goodies. We got a new VCR, but the satellite dish hasn’t arrived yet. When it does, though, I won’t have to go through the hassles of programming anymore when I want to set up the timer to record something. All I’ll have to do is select what I want to record from the screen.

He also got some new dusters for me, since the ones we had got old and grubby. This set is really cool too, cuz it has a handle you can attach to two of the dusters to reach up high. The two regular-size ones are red and purple and then there’s a little pink duster.

He got a pool brush for when we clean the sides of the pool.

We got another sound machine for the back room. This one’s a little different but has basically the same sounds. The only thing I don’t like about it is that it’s not very loud.

He fixed his ma’s car yesterday. Till that one or his breaks down again in a month or so.

Later…

Another thing Tom picked me up the other day was a thing called Fen-Fen. It’s supposed to be an all-natural appetite suppressant. So far it does seem to be curbing my hunger, and I’ve gone from 116 to 113, but I’m certainly not gonna get my hopes up about it yet.

Now for the best news yet - the bed got here! Finally! We still haven’t slept together yet, cuz our schedules don’t match up, but last night was the first time in several nights that I slept 8 hours. I did wake up to pee once, but I fell right back asleep. So, the bed’s really nice, but I’m not sure how sleeping together will go. Yes, it’s much more stable than a regular bed, but it’ll still take getting used to. It’s great to be able to just walk right up to the bed, instead of having to get onto it at the foot of it or by climbing over another bed.

It was a real pain in the ass to drain the waterbed and it also took a couple of hours to set up this new one, so we had our work cut out for us.

I don’t have my side too soft, cuz then when I sit up, my ass is on the decking below it. I have it in between and I also put the foam pad on that had been on the waterbed. I like smoothness as well as softness and this bed’s mattress is a little lumpy.

Anyway, this Sunday Andy and Michelle will be coming over in her ma’s truck to get the waterbed and give us the door. At least, I think it’ll be this Sunday.

This was just all talk at this point, but according to Tom, there’s a place called New River just outside of Phoenix that might be a good place for us to live. It’s weird here, but the further out you live, the cheaper it is. So, we could get a chunk of land that’d be cheaper than this place and it wouldn’t matter how big the town grew since they can’t build up to within a few feet away from us. We may have to take a dumpy house with it, but in time we could maybe build our own.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1997 Let me get the better or trivial things out of the way before I get to the shitty news.

I called to say hi to Paula, but there was no answer. Of course there wasn’t. The kid wouldn’t be there now.

Andy still leaves his daily 3-minute messages, which is the maximum each message can be, telling me how much he loves his job. I’m happy for him. Now that he’s got the car and job, I hope he gets the guy, but I don’t know.

I talked to Tammy a little while ago and she hasn’t quit smoking, but I told her to keep trying.

We went and played miniature golf yesterday. As usual, he kicked my ass, but we had fun.

Then we went to the library. It was a branch neither of us had been to before and it was weird looking. It was quite noisy, too, what with the handicapped people there. I don’t know if they had MD, or if they were retarded, had autism or what, but they were kind of loud with their hoots and howls. I got 5 books since I’m picky about what I read. The first one I tried, I couldn’t get into, but the second one’s great.

I was just out feeding the cats and refilling the cats and Bunny’s water supply. They’re all getting braver by the day, but of course, White Feet’s still the bravest and the friendliest and she even took a treat out of my hand the other day. I also play with the kittens, too, with yarn and balls.

Ma sent a message about her and Dad’s trip. I guess they were unfortunate enough to have to spend most of it with leg pain and arthritis pain and on the phone with their suppliers.

My other Mom has decided that that’s it, she’s ready to move. So she’s getting rid of a lot of her stuff and yes, the house will be sold at some point. I’m happy that she made this decision and is able to see that she just can’t live alone anymore. I’m sure that her moving into Mary’s and selling the house will make it easier for everyone.

From what I hear, Ma’s sister Margaret is still up to her same old crazy shit. She had to sleep in the tub with the water running on her feet, to ward off evil spirits.

The letter to the city went out yesterday and Tom did a fantastic job with it. Even though I know that nothing will come of this letter, especially anything good, it was so very well written. In fact, he did a much better job than I could’ve done.

OK, here’s the shitty news, even though I knew this was coming - it’s back. The fucking beast next door has returned and now I can kiss the peaceful nights goodbye. See, I don’t trust Tom when it comes to next door. He said that he was sure the dog wouldn’t come back, so when he says that, and that they’re not deliberately pissing me off, and that there’s something that can be done about the music and the dog too, I don’t buy it. In the end, the only person who can do something about the dog and music will be me. The dog’s return, however, may curb the music somewhat. Remember, by them and by God, it has to be one or the other. I wondered when he blared that music so incredibly loud a few days ago if he were trying to tell me something. He was trying to tell me that the dog would be returning. Then he escalated the music till making the switch back to the dog. I don’t know if he won’t stick me with both this time, but we’ll see. Yes, I still would take the dog over the music since the dog couldn’t wake me up, but this shit’s bad enough. I’m so fucking sick of these people and this city. I love Arizona and yes, this city’s got a lot of nice things about it that puts Springfield to shame, but I’ve also come to hate this city with a passion. Here, you either live in houses a few feet apart or out in nowhere land. There’s no happy medium. It really sucks that if you live in a house out here, and if you’re neighbors want a dog as part of their lives, it has to be a part of your life, too. I can’t look forward to my dusk-to-dawn peace anymore when I’m up at those times. That’s all gone now. It’s daytime now, so the fucking beast is quiet, but dogs don’t break routines too easily (look how long it took the guard dogs to quit their late-night barking) and I know that from around 6 PM-2 AM, it’s gonna be non-stop barking. If only these dogs could do their barking on the same shift, but not a chance. Each dog has their own way, and trust me, when the guard dogs can’t be heard, it’ll be next door’s turn to bark, and vice versa. Tom says that in a week or two tops, the night barking will stop and by the time it gets hot again, it’ll be settled in and will be no worse than the guard dogs. Bull fucking shit. I’m sorry. I love my dear hubby, but he’s dead wrong.

Anyway, the depression, anger, and frustration over it, can really have me stressed. I have to have fans on all night cuz these freeloaders say so and cuz they have to force their dog on me. And God won’t let me fight back, either. If I were to stick a source of noise on them that was 3 feet away from them or wake them up, I’d get holy hell for it from God and have my sleep taken away and have more things go wrong, but meanwhile, they can do whatever the fuck they want to me and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

I know now that they’re not moving. Not for a very long time, anyway. Each day my feelings get stronger and the weaker any vibe gets about them moving. They ain’t going anywhere.

It’s quite a coincidence that even though I knew this dog would return, it returns the same day Tom sends a letter about the music. As if God’s reminding me that if I fuck with him/fate, I’ll be compensated and made to pay for it. If there was such a thing as this letter being effective with the music, they’d just go out and get more dogs, with God’s help. Or they’d just have to have more company and maybe use that basketball hoop some more.

Later…

When I mentioned that I’ll be getting a period in two weeks that I shouldn’t be getting, Tom said, “Who said anything about November? I told you December and that hasn’t changed, so there should be no question about getting a period in two weeks.”

There shouldn’t be? Does he know something I don’t? I’m sorry, but any normal woman who got a squirt when I did, should more than likely be pregnant. But I’m not pregnant and I’d like to know how many more years it’ll take for Tom to see the reality of the situation. And I’d also like to know how and why he can sound so sure about this December crap. I mean he really, really sounds so damn sure of himself. Has he gone that much further into denial, or does he really know something I don’t? Has he really held back all this time, just waiting for what he thought would be a great time to squirt like hell? If so, I’d rather that that be the case, than this yearly denial thing. His knowing the truth won’t undo the truth, but it’d still help me, nonetheless. This doesn’t mean I’d ever have the guts to see a doctor about it, cuz I know what God would do to me if I got by him (not that this is something I could get by God on). I still say it’s what my gut instinct first told me - he’s afraid to cum much cuz he fears a child. Therefore, we can’t worry about my being afraid to see a doctor when he won’t cum but once every few months anyway. He’s much too smart to be naïve, so I’d say he’s pulling my leg about the bed being a magic cure and he knows it, too.

Still, what the hell is going on here? I just wish I knew what was really going through Tom’s mind and heart. Well, the bed should be here this week, so it’s just a matter of time now that I’ll be seeing just whatever it is that he’s gonna do. That is if that bed makes it here for sure without any more stalling.

Later…

Tom went to bed a little while ago and I began my new exercise plan, which I’ll explain after.

As far as how I knew the beast was back. Well first of all, when houses are just a few feet apart from one another and no one takes their dogs indoors, it’s no secret for more than 5 minutes, but I knew it before I heard it. Yesterday afternoon at around 4:00 I heard the little girl and the asshole in the backyard. Knowing they were not big on cooler weather and that it was a very odd time to be having company, I knew they had to be setting up stuff for the dog, like food and water. And then I heard it bark away. I looked out front expecting to not be able to see the car and I got what I expected. He’s gonna park deep in the carport again. Especially at night, so they can rig the thing up to the car in regard to me. Yup, these assholes really want to instigate shit and provoke me. Well, when I can convince Tom of how useless the letter will be, they’ll get what they want from me, only much much worse.

My vibes when it comes to them are pretty darn accurate. I guess we all have our weak spots and our hot spots when it comes to vibes, but like with the kid, I seem to be right on mostly when it comes to these sick fucks. So, trust me when I say that the letter’s already either in the garbage or filed away somewhere way out of the way, they’ll be here for quite a while longer, and that the dog and music will be a problem unless I do something about it myself.

I asked Tom if the city decided not to ignore the letter and if we’re right about how he’s not supposed to be there if he thought he’d end up leaving. He said yes, for a while. That’s true. The for a while part. I’m sure it won’t come to his leaving unless they have a fight which doesn’t look likely lately, but if he does leave, you’re talking just 2-3 months. Meanwhile, I’m sure his frequent visits would be made known to me. Very well known.

I asked if he thought it was his dog or hers. No clue, he said. I’m sure it’s hers.

Just a few more hours of peace left to go. Even the guard dogs have been quieter this winter. I’m pleasantly surprised. I still wish this winter could be like last winter. It was the quietest winter of all the winters I’ve been here.

According to Tom, though, the couple of hours or so that he spent in the back room late last night, he heard no barking. I don’t know about that, though, cuz he’s much more tolerant than me. Therefore, the dog could’ve easily barked without him noticing. As loud as it is in the back room, especially at night, it could still go over Tom’s head. Unless he felt that telling me he heard anything, if he did, would rile me up even more.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1997 I have news that’s good, surprising, and infuriating. Let’s just say that Friday night was the direct opposite of yesterday and of how today’s been so far.

As I left off saying, the freeloader let me know he was coming and going loud and clear a couple of times. Then later, at around 8:30, the freeloader came in with the music blasting wicked loud and he just sat there in the car and wouldn’t even get out. So, it was either me killing him for once and for all right then and there or my waking Tom up. He went out and talked to him, but as always, he said he’d turn it down.

And Tom says this isn’t personal? How can he believe for an instant that this isn’t aimed at me? And even if it wasn’t, it is by God. If the freeloader isn’t doing this on purpose (but I know he is), then God’s going through him to get at me. In fact, I’m sure God did have a part in it. I didn’t sleep very well that night, either, and I think a good part of it was payback for banging the previous night. So, all in all, I knew I’d have to pay for it somehow. I just don’t get it, though. Why do I feel like I’m the only one in this world who has to be punished for waking someone up (except Tom)? And I’m still sure they never woke up. I can’t even get away with just thinking about waking someone up that I’m pissed off at.

Tom says he’s gonna mail the city out their letter tomorrow, but I don’t know. Whenever he does, if it’s as useless as I feel it’ll be, that black ass is mine!

Now here’s where it gets shocking - yesterday, he actually was quiet. I wasn’t born yesterday or the day before, though, and I know this won’t last long at all.

Paula called again yesterday and we talked. Why is fate having it be that we only talk when that kid’s there? It’s so annoying to keep being put on hold so she can scream at him and to have to listen to him whine like hell.

I also got another call I didn’t expect. My brother left a message. I was wondering when and if I’d ever hear from him again. In his message, he said he couldn’t talk long cuz he had to go out and shovel. So when I got a hold of him at work, it was the happiest chat in a long time. Kind of like old times when I’d give him my laugh when he’d tell me how cold/snowy it was. He said Sandy was out raking leaves one day and then they were shoveling snow the next day. They had 24 hours’ worth of sleet and then it snowed, and they were expecting more snow.

He said that Sandy and Jen were fine. He’s talked to Mom and Dad, but not to Tammy who said, “What makes you think he’d call me?” when I talked to her after. Then he faxed us an “upgrade to complete asshole” certificate. I sent Tammy a copy, but of course, I won’t tell her it’s from him, much less that he suggested I sent it to her cuz then she’d really be hurt. I just told her a friend faxed it to me.

I was never more shocked to hear that for the first time ever (that I know of), the family of Sandy’s that she’s been so very close to, has been giving her and Larry some problems. I don’t know what the problems are that Larry and she have had with them, not that it’s any of my business, but it was surprising to hear, nonetheless. As surprising as it’d be to hear Tom suddenly say he was pissed off at his mother.

I had Tom give Mom a couple of pictures when he went over to take her to church. One of the kittens when I rescued them from that storm, and one of my Bugs Bunny wall-art in the bedroom. By the way, when Tom told her I got “fancy” mice, she asked, “Dancing mice?” Also, the babies are just starting to get their fur. I saw a slight tinge of gray forming on their backs.

Now that Tom updated one of the computer’s CD ROM drives, we got to see a little photo slideshow that’s on Gloria’s latest CD. It’s got a few different things you can choose from, like song lyrics, about certain songs, etc. All the pictures sucked, except for one.

I got a kick out of Tom’s teasing me yesterday (since he came and I didn’t) when he said, “When we get the new bed, I hope you’ll cum more.”

Another sign that my ma’s brain is on the fritz - their number came up on our box yesterday. For sure too, yet when I called there to see what was up, she said she didn’t call me. Maybe Dad dialed us by mistake from another extension, maybe not, but it was their number for sure. Meanwhile, she’s sending Tom something.

Tom says he’ll fire off the letter when he gets in from work early tomorrow morning, then off it’ll go. His doing this when he knows I’ll be asleep makes me wonder if he’s really gonna do this letter thing, but if he does, I’ve got mixed emotions about it working. I know it won’t work, but I kind of wish it wouldn’t so I could be the one to have the honor of putting his music out of business for good. A bigger part of me wants this letter to take care of the problem cuz it’s the city’s responsibility and not mine.

I like the sound machine a lot and it’s great for stuff like dogs, car doors, and things like that, but it only does an OK job with shit like motorcycles, and it could never compete with bass in a million years. We’ll be getting another one, though, to use in the back room on Tuesday.

Tomorrow, we’ll be playing miniature golf and going to the library.

The sicko’s still quiet, but as we know all too well, it’ll be very short-lived. For now.

Now for the really good and surprising news - Tom got off yesterday. It shocked the shit out of me, too. Not just that he came, but cuz of when he came. If I were fertile, I’d most definitely be pregnant. Guess God’s decided that it’s time for him to see that I really am sterile, but either way, it was fun. I don’t know if God pitted the asshole against me (along with the asshole pitting itself against me) with the music in compensation for this, the bed, or what, but I think it’s more than likely payback for my late-night ruckus.

Both the bed and the satellite dish should be here this week unless something else puts a block on them.

I really ought to be ashamed of myself for being so naïve as to get that Agia electrolysis thing. It really is a crock of shit. I should’ve known it was too good to be true and saved myself an extra $100, but it’s too late now, cuz I can’t get my money back from this place.

The mice are doing fine. I haven’t seen much of the babies, cuz the 3 ladies are keeping them buried under the sawdust to keep them warm since they don’t have their fur yet. Even Cocoa and Shy help sit on them to keep them warm. It’s the female mice’s instinct. Ziggy’s still the friendliest and likes to sit on my shoulder. When I lay on my stomach, she runs up and down my back. I had her in my hand and at arm’s length, I shot pictures. I hope they come out OK. I also shot a few of Bunny and the cats. The kittens like to play with Bunny and thankfully, Mama Cat and Bunny get along just fine. They ignore each other, but that’s better than them fighting.

The living room wall heater broke like everything around here does. Instead of picking up the part to fix it, he got a couple of little portable heaters and they work great. So I have the original one in the bedroom, and the two little new ones are in the music room and living room.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1997 The babies are doing fine. It’s so cute how sometimes all 3 adults nestle in with them. It’s amazing that they don’t get smothered with 3 mice sitting on top of them.

As soon as I got up, fed the animals and made my coffee, Paula started my day with a good laugh. She says it’s sleeting there and that the place is all iced over. Also, there’s no school there today, so I had to deal with at least a little of her screaming at Justin.

I’m now on step 2 of the Nicorette program. For the first 6 weeks, you have a piece of gum every 1-2 hours, but now it’s down to a piece every 2-4 hours. For weeks 7, 8, and 9 it’ll be that way. Then for weeks 10, 11, and 12, I’ll be at a piece every 4-8 hours. So, I’m halfway through the program and should be getting more mail from the company soon.

Later…

Got more pictures in the mail yesterday. I was wondering where the pictures were that I took of Spunky when we first got him. And it turns out that I did take pictures of Gizzy the gerbil, too, so Mom, Dad, and Tammy will each have a couple of envelopes of pictures to look forward to.

My folks left a message saying that they’ll update me on their trip in a few days, but first, they have to catch up at the store.

I’m really really pissed at Tammy. So pissed I could wring her neck! I should’ve known better when I wrote something about Tammy not making Lisa feel it was her fault that she got sexually assaulted. I’m sure that in the beginning she didn’t, but Lisa told me when we talked the other day that she called her own daughter a slut and told her that as far as what happened, she brought it on herself. Can you believe that?! I can, cuz that’s typical Tammy, but how sick can she be? How sick can anyone be to blame someone for someone else’s sick behavior? Especially a 14-year-old? Tammy has a way of seeming to be on your side one minute, then pouncing on you in the next minute. If there’s another good thing to never having a child, it’s that she and my parents would make me feel like I couldn’t handle it or that I’d be a lousy mom, if they didn’t come out and just say so. Maybe they’d have been right, but who would they’ve been to talk? I hate it when people pretend they can handle something or do well at something when they can’t, and then turn around and either tell or imply to others that they can’t either.

Lisa also told me what it was that she wrote that set Tammy off. Lisa started a journal, at the advice of her social worker, who she says also says it’s her fault and poor Lisa believes it, too. Tammy was rude enough to go and read it and I guess the problem was all about Lisa being friends with a bad boy. Lisa said she understands her parents not wanting her to hang out with kids on drugs, but she says she really cares for this guy as a friend. Lisa also told me she’d never write down that we talk, much less tell anyone.

Anyway, I told Lisa it was not her fault that some pervert hurt her (someone had to tell her what’s true). No matter what you do, say, or wear, a sick person is a sick person and we are not responsible for the actions of others. Parents should do their best to raise their kids to behave and all that and set good behavioral examples, but after that, we’re all on our own, all responsible for our own behavior. Not anyone else’s. Others may influence how we act, feel, think, believe, or our attitude, but that’s about it. We don’t control them and what they do.

Boy, do I have mixed emotions about God and Tammy. Tammy never should’ve had kids and God shouldn’t have allowed her any, but if she didn’t, I’d never have my niece Lisa as part of my life.

Tom doesn’t have a cold after all. Maybe he was just tired, as usual. Still, something will act like there’s a real pregnancy to avoid. Of course, we’ll also be busy, but that’s nothing new. God’s got to keep our time for sex, or for anything, in spurts. The positive side of it, though, is that it makes what time we do have more special.

Also, Ziggy went upstairs and came down without a problem, so I guess she just felt more comfortable waiting till she had the babies. Now my question is, is Shy pregnant? I doubt Cocoa is, but who knows with Shy?

Later…

Here we go with the bull. Tom’s implying that he’s gonna get off like hell tomorrow. When he works out his fears and paranoia - maybe.

I reminded Tom about the city letter, and now he wants to wait for a little to see if there’s a pattern. I knew it! I knew he’d stall and he’s gonna keep putting it off and making excuses with the false hope of my changing my mind about it. He still says he’s sure this letter will work, too, but I know it won’t. But if I can get him to send it and show him that it won’t work, then I can go and take care of next door myself in a way that will work till God punishes me for it.

Anyway, as far as patterns go - there is a pattern. There’s been a pattern for most of the time they’ve been here. At the same time, there’s a pattern, though, there isn’t a pattern. Meaning, instead of banging in loudly 2-4 times a day. It’s now usually twice a day and it’s sometimes not too loud. Also, the times vary. There’s no set time for when he comes and goes. He could leave at 7 AM and return at 5 PM one day, then leave at 8:30 AM and return at 7 PM the next day. Even so, he’s had about 3 different patterns in the times he’s actually lived there. First it was the loud music 2-4 times a day. Then it was no music, but the dog and the car doors. Now it’s car doors and music about twice a day that’s sometimes not too loud.

The asshole’s now beginning to park just outside the carport now where I can see him, now that the weather’s chilled down.

Like I said, if he or the city can’t or won’t do anything about their shit, I will.

We drained the pool some more today and it’s just about empty. There’s still a little bit in the Jacuzzi part.

Andy left 3 messages, 3 minutes each, telling me that he likes his job.

Again, I really like and care for my pal Paula, but boy is she a doofus! She doesn’t know who the father of either of her sons is. It’s fine to be a slut, cuz you know me. Whatever turns you on and to each their own is fine. But Jesus! Know the father of your kids for crying out loud!

She’s so full of shit too (unintentionally), saying that she didn’t know she was pregnant till she was in the 6th month and then she tried to tell me she had screwy periods till she was 6 months pregnant, then they stopped completely. First off, it’s impossible to not know you’ve been pregnant for 6 months. You’d have to be showing, be sick, or feel it moving around. Secondly, if you had that much bleeding, that fetus would be wiped out for damn sure.

It’s amazing how it wasn’t till this year that I really, really began to see and understand just how spacey and out of touch with reality Paula is. Sometimes, it takes being out of a person’s life for a while, then re-entering it, to see them for who they are. I knew she wasn’t too stable and that she was lacking at least a part of her brain back when we were neighbors, but not like I know it now. I was just too fucked up with too many of my own problems to be as receptive as I am now.

Later…

I’m so fucking pissed! Thanks, God. Thanks for rewarding me with next door going back to the way they were when they first got here for my not smoking and for my never doing shit to these people to deserve this. I swear to God, I’m gonna be out back making a ruckus every night that I’m up and I don’t care how much sleep I lose over it.

There were 6 helicopters swarming around the area really close by, and you know how loud those are. Yet over that, the fucking freeloader could be heard leaving louder than he has in well over a year. Tom heard it, too. I mean, we’re right back to where we started at the very beginning. Then, he came back just as loud. Tom was right when he said that in time, they’d go back to their same old shit after our screaming match, so I’d like to think he could be right about this letter shutting him up, but no way. And if it did, these fucking sick mother-fucking freeloaders would do something else. They’ll go out and get another dog or do something. Like I said, it’s either music or dogs with these sick fucks. And if it shut them up in all areas, God would have something else disturb my peace. Maybe a Mormon family will move in across the street, maybe there’ll be more construction around here, etc.

I’m gonna end up killing this freeloader! It’s just a matter of time now. When I get done with this fuck, this fuck’s gonna be out of commission for quite a while, and then when he is physically able to drive, he’ll be too fucking scared to blast that music, cuz he’ll remember. He’ll remember and he’ll have nightmares of me for the rest of his life. I really am about to be this freeloader’s worst nightmare. By the New Year, I’m sure.

Now this could be cuz they heard me talking to Tom out back and this is his way of saying, “I heard you. Now hear me.” Yeah, I hear you, you fucking black asshole. And soon you’ll be more than just hearing me! It could also be cuz they’ve figured out it’s me banging at night and why, but either way, I know they planned this the moment his bitch and I laid into each other.

What? Does he want me to do something to him or his car? He gets really loud at just about the same time he starts parking in front of the carport (as well as when the dog leaves). Is he looking for an excuse to take me to court? Well, he isn’t gonna get that, that’s for sure.

The only thing that’s improved here, is that due to the fact that these freeloaders don’t dig winter, they’re not having as much company, nor are they hanging outside gabbing.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1997 And now I have 5 mice! That is, unless Shy or Cocoa’s pregnant, too. Meanwhile, Ziggy had two babies, and boy are they ugly. They’re these pink, bald, squirmy little things and are unrecognizable. I wouldn’t know they were mice if I didn’t know any better. They mature so fast, though, so they’ll look like mice before you know it. I just hope that this is it and that they’re the same sex. I could wind up with tons of mice if not, but I could give them to pet stores. I’m sure they’ll be fed to snakes, but I may not have a choice.

They’re so tiny. Barely bigger than a jellybean.

This may explain why only Cocoa’s been exploring the upper levels of their house, whereas Ziggy and Shy have remained downstairs (Shy looks pregnant, too).

Guess the workers are gonna be next door any minute now. Yesterday, I heard him leave by way of the car door awfully early, and shortly after, they arrived. Same scenario so far today - he left just before 7:00. Get it? As if he doesn’t want to make it appear that he’s spent the nights.

I was surprised but pleased that the workers weren’t here all day yesterday. Just a few hours, actually, but I thank God for my schedule being the way it is. They arrived at 7:00 and for a good 45 minutes, they pounded and pounded so loud that it shook this house and would’ve woken me up for damn sure! Then they worked quietly and left around 10:00 when we went and got Chanukah presents for my parents and for Tammy and Bill. I got them some desert decorations too, but not the same kind I’ve got. Theirs are coyotes with flowers and cactuses. A very beautiful southwestern display that I know they’re all gonna love and that they can’t get in the states they live in.

We went to the library too, and Tom got the address we needed. I got a Dean Koontz book.

Then Tom said he had a slight sore throat. Yeah, I believe it. He’s well overdue for a cold and it’s perfect timing, too. Meaning, right as I approach prime time. Once again, something’s got to act like there’s a pregnancy to prevent. Then why did it allow Tom to cum a good 5-6 times when it was the right time when he first started cumming? Nothing happened then, or in the past with asshole Ron, so I am sterile. Why, though, must it act like I’m not? And once again, if Tom’s so sure I’m fertile and if he wants a kid that bad, why hasn’t he cum in months?

Here is another of his many bullshit cures - he told me that quitting smoking would help him to cum, but all it did was increase the sex for a week or two when I first quit. Meanwhile, it’s been almost 6 weeks since I’ve had a cigarette and not once did he squirt. Oh, wait a minute! He needs a new bed to cum! That’s right. Only this mattress can cure his little problem.

We got some pictures in the mail yesterday that aren’t as impressive as I hoped they’d be. Some of them are blurry. There were some of my folks from when they were here and a couple of Gizzy the mouse. There were several of Bunny and Teddy Bear. Too bad I didn’t shoot pictures of Gizzy the gerbil, but I thought he’d be around a lot longer than he was. Anyway, I’ve sent my folks and Tammy about 12 pictures each. Of course, I look terrible in the few shots I was in. I look chunky and my face is geeky looking. You can also tell how dead and uneven my hair is.

I got a kick out of another ditzy thing Paula had said when we spoke. Since she loses my number every time she moves when she writes it down on paper, she wrote it on her apartment wall this time around. She’ll have to take that wall with her when she moves.

Later…

God, these baby mice sure are weird-looking. They look like they don’t have any eyes at all and you can barely see where the mouth and nose are. The ears are just little humps. They look like they’re only partially formed, which in a sense, is true.

I forgot to say before that the mice were $2.50 each. So they all came to just over $8.

Their tails look like rolled-up silk close up, but when you move away, they look like worms.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 1997 The mice are settling in well. Shy just got tangled in my hair, but I got her out. The other two really love to run up and down my arm and when I lay on my stomach, they run up and down my back.

I asked Paula if she’d be settling in, speaking of it, and if she’d be hanging around the place she’s in for more than a few months. She says yes, but we’ll see.

My theory was right. She’s not on welfare. She’s on disability, listed as a nut just like I was. They sure treat her better than they treated me. She’s living in a 3-story duplex (cellar, first floor and upstairs) and is getting $1000 a month. Her rent’s also just $132 like mine was with Carabetta on Oswego St. This is all cuz of the kid, though. They do more for those with either very bad handicaps or kids.

Speaking of kids, I still can’t understand how God could give this girl kids and not me. I can see him choosing to bless Evie over me, but her? Please! I love my friend Paula and remember well all the times she listened to me bitch about life. I know she can’t help her flaky state of mind, too, and she was obviously born that way and got this from her real mother, who she says is a mental case that’s been locked up forever. So no, she can’t work, cuz she’s just too stupid to. This isn’t someone suffering from PTSD like I was or who is just stressed out. She may even have some type of mild retardation.

She told me that Robert had been with a doctor, but then they moved him and she doesn’t know where to. She said some guy was supposed to have molested Robert and that he was taken from her for reasons of neglect and abuse, but that she proved she could keep Justin. How could she have proved that? All she ever does is scream and threaten. And the way she said, “He’s so mental,” about Justin and loud enough for him to hear, was just awful.

Then she said she wondered if she was pregnant, cuz she’d gained weight and then she said something about the tubes she had tied growing back after 5 years. I never heard of that. I mean, I thought if a woman had her tubes tied - that’s it. No more kids ever. If I’m wrong though, God, don’t you dare let this girl have another baby!

Then she went back and forth from admitting that Robert may be better off where he is since she just couldn’t handle him to saying she was gonna go hunt him down without caring if she got arrested, etc.

She broke up with the guy she said she was seeing in the letter she’d written to me. He got busted for drug dealing. Yeah, that’s the kind Paula would seek and attract. Now she says she’s seeing a CO. That’s a step up for her.

She sure is a reminder of just how far I’ve come. I’ll never have a child or some hot job, but I’m not on disability anymore and I’m not still in trouble, either.

Anyway, although she’ll be out of where she is soon enough and without a phone again for a while, I’m gonna try not to talk to her unless the kid is in school. He’s in 1st grade. This way, I won’t have to hear her threatening to punch him in the mouth, etc.

I forgot to say earlier that I got to ask a guy working next door if the house was being sold. As figured, he said no, they just had their main line replaced.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 1997 Got a message from Paula while I was asleep. I’ll have to give her a call at a more decent hour. She’ll be up by 7 AM her time. Can’t wait to see what’s been up with her.

I slept OK, but I still woke up too soon for a while, then fell back asleep. I’m not sure at this point, whether or not I’m gonna try harder to lose weight or just let myself keep gaining. I may have no choice but to keep gaining. God gave me my lungs back, so I’m sure he’s not in a hurry to give me my body back, too.

We went to the pet store yesterday where I really lucked out. We had discussed the possibility of getting a female hamster to make babies or a female and male gerbil. Instead, I got 3 really cute mice (all ladies).

Their names are Ziggy, Shy and Cocoa.

Later…

I stopped earlier, cuz Tom got up and we got to talking.

I also just called Paula and ended up laughing my ass off, cuz just like when I called her nearly a year ago, she was waiting for the landlord to fix her heat. She never has any heat. She’s so cursed when it comes to heat and is always trying to get her heat fixed.

So in the two minutes we spoke, before the landlord beeped in, she told me that she moved a couple of times, which is typical Paula. She was also screaming at the kid, as usual. She did get the shirt I sent and the letters and still has the same PO Box. She’s in a West Springfield housing project.

She said she’ll call me back, but you never know when that’ll be.

I thought they had time limits on people on assistance now. She hasn’t worked since I met up with her in ‘89. Maybe she’s on disability, as well as welfare, cuz she is out of it in the head to a degree. She’s just so flaky.

Anyway, the mice I got are called long-haired silkies or fancy mice. Their fur really does look like shiny, shimmering silk. They are so adorable and so mellow compared to the house mouse I had and the gerbil. Gerbils and hamsters are definitely the most aggressive of them all and house mice never want to be friendly. They just want to be ignored. These mice, though, are so friendly. Just a little skittish, but they’re just babies and I just got them.

Cocoa’s the smallest and she got her name cuz she’s all brown. Shy is Shy, cuz she’s the timidest. Ziggy’s Ziggy, cuz she has a white zigzag streak across her head. Shy and Ziggy have brown and white, but mostly brown. Cocoa’s small, Shy’s average, but Ziggy’s big. I wonder if she could be pregnant.

Zig’s the friendliest of them all so far and she loves to sit on my shoulder and walk along my arm. I took some pictures, too. She tried to climb onto my nose and into my mouth, but I made sure she didn’t.

Anyway, I love the mice and am glad I found them. All I’d ever see for mice in pet shops were all white mice, which I don’t care for.

Later…

This is just too fucking weird. They’re working again next door! They come on weekends, they come on holidays. Are they gonna come on Christmas, too? And are they ever gonna finish what they’re doing? Not only are they here today on a holiday (Veteran’s Day), it’s raining out too, yet they’re sawing, banging, thumping, and doing God knows what. I guess God’s back to his not wanting me to sleep much, cuz they’re not gonna be gone till 6:00 and I’ll need to crash at 3:00 or 4:00. Tom says it seems like too much work for just fixing things that need to be fixed in general. He says it seems like they’re preparing to make a sale. Whatever. I just wish they’d finish!

Later…

I just spoke to Andy who said he got a job. I’m so happy for him. And it’s his one and only job application and interview since being fired. The restaurant is just a mile from his house. I don’t know what his hours will be yet or what days he’ll have off.

Michelle’s friend or mother, I forgot which one, will be taking the waterbed. In exchange for my giving them the waterbed, they’ll be bringing that security door in their truck when they come to pick the bed up. Our new bed should be here within 5-10 days. I hope!!! And I hope it works out, too. I mean, I know it won’t change the sex and the sterility, but I just hope we really can sleep well enough together with this new bed and sound machine.

The day I got the mice, I called my folks to tell them about it live, but Gene answered. I had an unexpected, but pleasant chat with him. He really sounds a lot like Dad. We talked about the weather and things in general and he told me mom surprised dad with a trip to Orlando. Dad had to have blood work done, which came out fine. While this was going on, Ma packed up the car and just took off with Dad later. I guess it’s two hours away.

I called Gene today too, and he said they called last night and that they were at Epcot Center and at a laser light show.

Later…

Are they ever gonna leave next door? These assholes have been here for 7 hours, so what the fuck can they be doing? There was a cement mixer here a few hours ago that was obviously filling in the patio, but they’re not done yet. I noticed something different today and that’s that someone was up on their roof. I couldn’t tell what he was doing, but is all this really over the sewers? He’s still living next door, cuz we either see the car or hear the car doors, so they’re not moving. All my “change” vibe was over was because of the work they were doing and the temporary absence of the dog. I knew the dog disappearing after just a few months was too good to be true. God would never like me enough to allow a dog to piss me off for such a short time. It’s gotta be coming back. Sooner or later these city fuckups have to finish whatever the fuck they’re doing and then, in comes the beast. Well, at least my only choice won’t be music to drown out its barking. And if it doesn’t return, which is what Tom thinks will be the case, there’s still bound to be a dog over there at some point, be it the asshole’s, or someone else’s.

Tom still wants to pick up another sound machine, but for now, he got another fan. So I can have the fan on, instead of just music, which was what I was trying to say before. The AC fan just barely wipes out the guard dogs two yards away, but it’d be useless against a dog just a few feet away. This one’s more than a fan, though, for a box fan. It’s got a grill on its front to let you control the direction of the airflow. Its blades are so skinny, too, and that’s probably why it’s not as loud as the other fan I had. Still, it makes for a good backup for when the sound machine dies.

OK, he just banged in next door, so off goes the letter to the city. Not that it’ll do any good and not that Tom will send it right away.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1997 Again I woke up too soon yesterday, after only 5 hours of sleep. Nothing woke me up, but I just couldn’t get back to sleep and it was frustrating as all hell. Finally, after a couple of Benadryl, I crashed and ended up with a total of about 11 hours of sleep. I needed it, too!

If anything’s improved by being woken up too soon, it’s that I’m not wheezing my ass off. My heart still beats hard and fast, but not as bad. I still feel just as beat and disoriented, though.

Anyway, this being woken up started right when I began dieting. I was gonna quit the diet and see if I got woken up again, figuring that if I slept OK, then something didn’t want me losing weight. However, I’m down to 110. So since it’s working, I may as well just deal with being woken up. For a while, anyway.

I still don’t know if something was trying to punish me or trying to tell me something or both. Tom says getting up for a kid would be no problem, cuz it’s a responsibility, whereas something that’s not my responsibility, is different.

He also pointed out that just cuz David and Evie got what they wanted, and so soon after marriage, doesn’t mean that Evie didn’t have to go through her share of shit, too. She was married twice before and both guys left her and took everything.

Tom also suggested that maybe something’s testing us to see how bad we want it. For this long? I can see that for a few months but for a few years? That’s quite a test, don’t you think?

I asked Tom the question I asked this journal - why he suggested I’d be pregnant at different times if he knew that the answer to that was the bed. His answer was that just cuz he knew the bed would work, didn’t mean other things couldn’t work too. Well, he gave himself away, not that I didn’t know any better when he said he wouldn’t give any more timetables after December. In other words, he knows my being pregnant in December’s bullshit, but that he’ll stop doing that after December (saying I’ll be pregnant by January, then by February, etc).

Tom would’ve gotten a kick out of my horoscope if he’d seen it on AOL. I told him about it, though. It said that household things that need repair or replacement may seem like a crisis, but that in the end, it’d turn out to be beneficial. I wondered that, too. If maybe God had the fan break knowing that this sound machine would help me even better. For example, it may help with his snoring if we ever get that bed.

I talked to Tammy yesterday, who says she’s gonna be quitting smoking by way of a medication that goes to the brain that’s very expensive. I never heard of it, but she says that after a week of taking the drug (she’s still going through the same lung problems I had there), she will quit smoking. I hope so. It’d be nice to see her follow in my footsteps. Yes, it’s now been 5 weeks for me and the intense cravings and dizzy spells are just starting to ease up.

Today I’ll probably be going to the pet store to see about getting a new small critter of some kind.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 1997 Yesterday was a shitty day. All was going just fine for a while there. I had even gone over 12 hours without eating, was down two pounds to 112, and quite proud of myself. Then Tom told me something that caused me to have mixed emotions. That David got a vasectomy cuz he and Evie got what they wanted - a boy and a girl. I’m very happy that they got what they wanted, but what about me? Don’t I count too? Doesn’t my dream matter at all to God? At least David and Evie are one of the few great people that I wish had more kids than society’s assholes do, and perhaps it’s not very humbling for me, but it’s not fair! Please God, don’t forget me too.

Something was out to get me real good yesterday. I don’t know if God was punishing me, or just trying to remind me that a baby isn’t something I could handle physically and mentally or both.

It began at bedtime. I threw my book onto the bed, planning to read a bit before crashing, then went to reach for the fan. Sure enough, though, the speed control on it broke and it wouldn’t go close to high speed.

Is God ever gonna stop breaking our stuff?! I just wish he’d leave our stuff alone!

So Tom brought in two wimpy fans and then we tried what we thought would be a hot idea to create white noise. We set the radio where there wasn’t a station, to create a mix of static and wind sounds like the fan.

Meanwhile, even though it wasn’t till 2 PM that I fell asleep to that, I noticed at 10:30 that the fucking construction vans are next door again! What the fuck are they doing over there? And does this explain why the dog still isn’t there? Am I still in for that dog returning? Anyway, even though the static on the radio wasn’t quite as consistent as I’d have liked, I fell asleep. But just for two whole hours. The fucking thing started crackling and popping and the rush of static/wind was coming in waves. Then I tried tuning in a real station on the radio only to wake right up on every commercial. How the hell did I once sleep to this thing?! Then I tried playing a CD, but then the speakers on my old box, which have never had a problem before, started crackling and faltering, too!

Like I said, it was way, way too obvious that something up there was trying to get me. Again, was it punishing me, or trying to teach me a lesson about having to keep getting up? Or could it have been cuz of my trying to lose weight that something up there hasn’t wanted me to lose? I don’t know, but it was more than frustrating and angering. It was scary.

Tom, who had left after the discovery of the fucked-up fan, came home after the last thing that woke me up which was the fucking people working next door. He brought me a real treat that I’ll use till God breaks it, and he’s already warned me that he will break it too, cuz its speakers fucking crackled on me as well for a few seconds as I was adjusting the volume. Anyway, it’s a noise machine with 6 sounds. The two I don’t like are the chorus of crickets and the heartbeat. They say fussy babies like the heartbeat, though, cuz they can hear the mother’s heartbeat in the womb so it soothes them, but I’ll never have to worry about a fussy baby. There’s also a rain sound and a mountain stream sound and these are nice, but my two favorites are the ocean waves and the white noise, which is a recording of a waterfall. I finally slept to this last one with no interruptions from 5 PM - 10 PM.

We hope to get one of these to use in the back room too, cuz they’re not just great for sleeping and drowning out noise like barking, but they’re very relaxing. I also love the fact that I can put it anywhere I want and not have to worry about it being dangerous like a fan can be (if my middle-ass-length hair got caught in it). And I don’t have to deal with the draft of the fan in the winter.

Tom also got computer parts for us, but mainly for him. We’re gonna be having more of our own computers so that we don’t have to worry about hard drive space or if one’s using the computer when the other wants to.

He’s also gonna set things up to make it easy for me to make more screensavers out of videos.

I can also watch TV in the corner of the screen while I type, but I don’t know if that’ll be something I’ll be that interested in doing. That’d be sort of distracting.

Anyway, even though I finally won God over on the sleep issue, even if I’m still a bit tired, it was off to more bad news when I got up. It seems something’s also delaying our Visa card. Something doesn’t want us to get that bed. But why?! Is it trying to prevent added normalcy? Or is it trying to protect me from more trouble/heartaches/frustrations?

We discussed sending the city the letter about next door and have decided that we’ll wait till they start up again. I don’t know why the music ended so soon, not that I can complain, but I know them and know that it’s only a matter of time before it’s a problem yet again. So Tom will get the address to which to send the letter, but as soon as we hear them, off it goes. Not that it’ll do me any good. And not that God won’t make me pay for it, too.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 1997 Tom was sweet enough to come home right after work, instead of heading to do the grocery shopping. He said he was sorry I had to find Gizzy alone.

I put Gizzy in an empty coffee can and Tom put it in the dumpster. It’s not like I had him for years, or else I’d have had Tom bury him, which he offered to do.

Sometime soon, I’ll go pick out a new small critter, but I don’t know for sure if it’ll be a gerbil, a hamster, or a mouse.

I hope to hell this weekend is peaceful. That’s all I’d need is for them to throw their fucking noise at me be it music or whatever, on top of the not smoking, the losing Gizzy, and the fact that I’m now 114 pounds.

Of course, Tom never sent the city that letter about next door. I knew he wouldn’t, and even though they’ve been quieter for some strange reason, he should’ve at least gotten the address. He should’ve gotten that the day he verified that that was a city-owned house.

I talked to Andy earlier, who’s still afraid to get a job. He said he went to one restaurant that he believed would’ve hired him till Cocoa’s ruined it for him.

Andy and Michelle are going to the lesbo bar together. I’m glad Andy’s got someone to take my place in that department.

Andy’s just as amazed as I am that I’ve gone this long without smoking. It’s nice to be able to breathe, but I’m far from thrilled about gaining 6 pounds in the last month, and I still have cravings. They’re easing up a little, but they’re still there and I’m sure they always will be as long as I continue not to smoke.

Andy, who even said he never gives up (when it comes to getting a boyfriend) and who’s always been more optimistic than me, can’t believe Tom could believe that a mattress could bring a child into the world. He’s not as optimistic as Tom is, you see, but I explained to Andy that although it’s not the mattress itself that he thinks will bring a child into the world, but rather the closeness/normalcy of sleeping together, I agree his optimism is overkill. It’s a shame that as much of a genius as my husband is, he’s also this naïve, but again, I don’t think he’s really off in Never Never Land. I don’t think he believes what he’s saying. I think he’s pulling my leg and trying to tell me something that sounds great, but I know better. He says he disagrees, but I think that if you truly love someone, you can have normal sex with them full-time in a public bathroom stall. Sure, sex is harder to concentrate on when you’re sick, mad, sad, or worrying about something, but when the sex hasn’t started off with him being tired, hurt, mad, sad, sick, or worried - what’s the problem? Fear. Fear is the problem and he may or may not know it, but my husband’s way too intelligent to even think for a millisecond that this could be the answer to normal, full-time sex and a kid. Beds, environmental, and lifestyle changes may help, but they don’t make sex and babies. People do. People have had sex and conceived in public bathroom stalls, for fuck’s sake. But when one’s scared and the other’s sterile, then it becomes a rather difficult thing to do. No, an impossible thing to do. And God has yet to offer any help.

So, since I know real damn good and well that I won’t be conceiving a damn thing in December, but more weight unless I do something about it, I’ve got to try, as hard as it’ll be, to not eat. Just have liquids and vitamins.

Later…

I don’t believe it. Now the unavailable calls are coming at this late hour?! That, coupled with the fact that they called 3 times in a row one night and wouldn’t even leave a message, tells me it is someone one of us knows.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 1997 Well, there’s a car next door. I could just see the rear end of it hanging out of the carport, which runs right along the side of our house. I don’t know why he’s been quieter, or if he has for sure, cuz of the way my schedule is right now, but he ain’t going anywhere. I just don’t feel it.

My husband says I’ll definitely be pregnant in December and if I’m not by January or February, he’ll then begin to wonder. What a bad liar he is. I mean, really! Does he really think even an eighth of me could believe I’d ever be pregnant in December?

Anyway, Tom got a Florida Marlins T-shirt from my folks. They won the World Series and you know how much Tom loves sports. That’s where he’s your typical male.

Got a couple of purses and one had a dollar bill in it, a pair of white loafers, and some candy. A couple of plastic glasses with a fruit design on them, 4 really pretty coasters, and a very nice sweater for someone with sensitive skin and who always felt smothered in sweaters. It’s in the form of a jacket, rather than a shirt, which I like better than a regular sweater, and it’s very pretty. It’s got colorful floral embroidery around where the buttons are and pearl buttons.

For the first time, they sent CDs. There were 5 CDs. One, I already have, two I don’t want, but then the last two I’m keeping. One is of Carly Simon and the other is of Wilson/Philips. They sent two of theirs and I have one, but right now I’m checking out the Wilson/Philips CD I don’t have. So far I’m not impressed, but songs have a way of growing on me in time.

Now, here’s where I once again wonder about my mother’s state of mind and memory. We already discussed and agreed she wouldn’t send us this plaid blue comforter, but she did anyway. Oh well.

Got a letter from Kim, who said she’s glad to hear I’m not smoking. For a nurse, I’m sure she is. She and Walter are still doing well, so I’m happy for her. Who knows when they’ll be living together, though?

I also got more stickers and address labels from the HS. With them, I’ll probably never need to order a nice set from this company’s catalog that I use. The HSs aren’t as nice, but they don’t cost anything.

They finished working today on the front street corner and believe it or not, I slept through a couple of hours of their work. I waited to go to bed after they got here, figuring it’d be easier to go to bed to their noise, rather than fall asleep first, then have it wake me up. And they’re definitely all done, too.

Later…

Gizzy’s dead. I don’t really want to get into it now, so later…

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 1997 Earlier, we went to Wal-Mart and got a couple of new pairs of sweatpants and a couple of new bras, since I’m just not skinny anymore.

I also got the little critters more toys. I got 4 more curved tubes, a maze, and a high-rise. I decided that the maze did interest me, after all. It’s really cool and I’ll rotate it between Gizzy and Teddy Bear. What the high-rise is two little round tubes that are connected that they can sleep in. Instead of keeping them connected, though, I’ve got them set up so that each one can use them. Gizzy’s got the red one on his house and Teddy Bear’s got the blue one on his house.

I also called Mary and told her all about the new stuff and she and Dave just got a high-rise, too.

There was another computer question from my parents a few days ago and hopefully, Tom will have the time to answer it soon enough. It was about how to get the 50 free hours she’s supposed to get, then she wanted to know if something would be billed on her phone bill or charge card.

Hopefully, he can also put the chicken wire across the top of the hutch (in case these cats do venture indoors here). Mama Cat now meows for me sometimes late at night when she wants more food. White Feet almost ate right out of my hand the other day, but Blackie’s still a shy one.

And I hope he can soon put on the new toilet seat, too. This is the second soft one that’s ripped, so now we’re back to hard toilet seats. That’s OK, cuz at this point; I have enough cushioning on my ass. As my dad said when he was here - I’ve got a soft ass.

He began draining the pool which is now just about empty. We still don’t know if we’re gonna paint it a solid blue, or if I’m gonna do any kind of drawings or patterns on it. It’s gonna depend on what kinds of paints and colors we can get.

I’ve been checking out some web pages on Charlie’s Angels and have been downloading some old pictures I used to love into my wallpaper file. It’s really cool to just be able to browse through all this stuff and I wish they had had this when I was 10 and really into them. Back then, you could only get pictures by way of magazines and you certainly couldn’t tape any episodes at that time.

The asshole’s been fairly quiet lately. Their color was never the issue. It was their music and dog that were the issue, and I know there’s good and bad in all colors and that most people suck.

Anyway, I’m not sure if he’s moving next door, but I guess it isn’t likely.

I hope I can talk to Lisa alone sometime soon. I’m really worried for her and I feel so sorry for what she and her sisters have to go through. In some ways, Tammy may be a better mom than our mom was, but not in very many ways at all. She’s either too much like her and if she’s not, she’s still a negative, moody, serious bitch. Very insensitive and hard to talk to, for the most part. She just doesn’t understand people too well, which is a shame what with all she’s been through. I don’t think Tammy’s fully to blame for who she is. We are who our parents shape and make us and what our experiences are as we grow up, but we still have to take responsibility for our own actions and make our own personal changes that we know are either right for us or that’ll improve us as the people we are.

I called there several days ago, and Lisa answered. Right away, I could tell something was wrong. She sounded miserable and she muttered in a shaky voice that she was, too. Bill was there, so we couldn’t talk. All I could do was ask her yes or no questions, but I couldn’t even do that for very long, cuz then Tammy came home. It had to do with them going through her room and finding something she wrote. That’s all I could get out of her with my questions and I didn’t want to ask questions that could be too suggestible and plant any wrong ideas.

Tom and I discussed it later, and we think the things she could’ve possibly been caught writing about could’ve had to do with negative statements against Tammy, sex, or maybe something she shouldn’t have said or done that involved someone outside of the household.

I hope Lisa will be OK and that we’ll be able to talk soon. I just worry so much over her mental state. I can only imagine what that must be like. I certainly know what Tammy can do to one’s mental state.

Tom’s not only saying he’ll definitely cum regularly when we get the bed but asked me why he’d work so hard and go through all the hassles of getting this bed if all he wanted was to use it to play with my head. Well, cuz he knows there are still some benefits to this bed that don’t include the actual sex acts. Like the closeness and added normalcy, for example, and the convenience it’d bring. I miss being able to walk right up to a bed and have a night table by it, too.

Anyway, he reminded me that I said I wanted to prove to him who’s right about the sterility, so this is a clean-cut yes or no way to find out. So, he’s saying that he’s gonna cum so much that we have to know who’s right about my being sterile? Good, God! How dumb does he think I am? I know better. Nothing will change. Then he’ll make up excuses and casually lie his way out of why things didn’t change by implying that it was my fault and that he was too busy. I can see the part about being too busy. That’s where God comes in. He’ll make sure Tom has his work cut out for him and his time sucked up really good to really tire him out. People’s cars will break and things will break around here way more often than usual. And always when it’s prime time too, as if there could really ever be a pregnancy that God just needed to prevent!

He says he’s always wanted a bed we could both share. Well, I knew that, but if it was this important to him, why didn’t he stress it more often and stronger? His answer was that he didn’t want to sound demanding and controlling. And if he felt the answer to a kid was this bed, why did he insist over and over again that I’d be pregnant at certain times in the past?

And how can God do this to a woman? And why me?

Later…

Another thing I forgot to mention that Andy told me in our chat we had the other day, was about when he and Michelle went to a lesbian bar. He said he couldn’t believe how many feminine women there are now. I can. Of course there are. I’m off the scene. Not that tons of fems would do me any good ever since I’m a fem myself. They like them really big or really butchy if they’re feminine.

The Humane Society sent me my 1998 calendar. It’s really nice. Lots of cats, dogs, rabbits, and other animals.

My breathing has improved tremendously, and I need my inhaler much less. It’s nice to wake up without having to wheeze my ass off and cough like hell. And to be able to sing without always clearing my throat. My nose still gets stuffy, but not as much. If only I knew I could lose weight, but I just don’t know if I can do that anymore. Or if it’ll ever get any easier for me. It’s hard at times. I can go hours without thinking of smoking, then I’m suddenly hit with such powerful urges to smoke. The Nicorette does help, but I can’t take that forever. I must wean my way onto regular gum. Today hasn’t been too bad with intense cravings and I hope that’s a good sign, but I sure do miss them. The ciggies, I mean.

Now I’ll indulge in a far-out fantasy, but hey, that’s what journals are for. The fantasy is that God picked this to be the time to allow me to quit smoking, cuz he never hated me. He never intended to deny me a child all my life. He was just waiting for the perfect time. And since he knows it’s hard enough caring for a child, he wouldn’t want it to be any harder for me by me gasping for breath all the time. So, the reason why he now helped me to help myself is so that he can now give me the child I’ve wanted for so long.

Yeah, I know. I’m great at dreaming.

I don’t see the car next door that I was surprised to see parked in front of the carport and not deep within it early yesterday evening. Does that mean he’s not there? Or does it mean he moved the car deep into the carport? My guess - it’s gone deep in the carport.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1997 No sounds from next door. I don’t know if that means he isn’t around, or if he figured out what the banging was all about and shut up, or shut up just because. I still doubt anyone heard me, but if they did, I wonder if they think there’s a connection between how the street corner looks right now and last night’s racket? This is where I get into my payback. This is also a scary reality, too, that proves I’m right about God and his ways with me, for the most part. I knew he’d never let me sleep after the 4-5 times I made a racket last night. And I was right. So, how can I be wrong about it when I say he’ll never allow me a kid? First I woke up cuz of a really weird and unpleasant dream. Then, at 10:30 I was woken up by the city digging up our front corner where the fire hydrant is. They miraculously didn’t work all day. Just an hour or two, then I also miraculously fell back asleep. Tom says that they probably won’t work at all today, since they plan on shutting the water off for 4 hours on the 6th. In other words, though, there’s gonna be 2-3 days where I’ll be woken up. Just how much of this work would need to be done if I hadn’t gone out and banged the night away, I wonder? Why is it that I can’t get away with anything? I mean, I just can’t get away with shit! And to have to pay for noise that I’m virtually certain wasn’t heard by anyone, makes me even more pissed. I can’t get away with just thinking about causing trouble.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 1997 Still no dog next door, so the sick fuck had to blast in at 11 PM. And I’m sure it was him I heard last night, too. Oh, how I want just 5 minutes with this boy. Just 5 minutes! And she’s welcome to come to this door again too, as a bonus for me.

I pounded once last night, but tonight, given the fact that the music was even louder and I’m getting more and more pissed and closer to breaking my promise to Tom, I’ll be out there pounding every hour. It helps vent some of this anger and frustration, but not like it would if it were their heads I was pounding.

One of these days, I’m gonna break this promise to Tom, and why not? He’s broken promises to me and promises were meant to be broken, anyway. So when I see that this letter that he says he’s sending at the end of this week doesn’t work, and when the bed doesn’t change anything, and when he casually tries to lie his way out of it, I’m sure that’ll throw me over the edge. Then no more freeloader problems for me.

Tom was bitching about my name-calling when I referred to the sick fuck next door in a rather mean way. I told him I could see him not liking me calling him a name to his face or some family member he loves, but why can’t I call someone a name in our own home? Someone we barely know and who’s pissed me the fuck off? He said that that’d cause me to get into the habit of name-calling, in his opinion, and he doesn’t like to be called names. OK. However, if I’m gonna call him a name, I’m gonna call him a name regardless. I just think it’s OK to call someone names in journals and to people whom it can’t get back to and not to their face. The only thing that I think shouldn’t be written or discussed with others is if you have a problem with someone. Well, obviously my talking to the freeloader about his musical ways that are rubbing bad chords with me, didn’t do shit, so my fists will have to do what my mouth couldn’t do when that letter proves useless and when the bed does, too. Don’t get me wrong. The bed will help with some things, but if Tom thinks, or thinks that I think that it’ll cause lots of squirts and a planted seed, he’s got to be real damn naïve, if he isn’t lying intentionally.

I removed hairs from my tits and from my lower stomach, even if it took forever. I’m gonna wait and see if the hairs grow back. If they don’t, then I’ll continue on with more hair removal, but like I said, it’ll take me 5 lifetimes before I remove all I want removed.

I chatted with Andy, and while he got the new car, he still seems to be quite a sad case. I feel really bad for him. I do and I don’t. A part of him has made his own bed that he has to lie in, and he knows this, but we both also know that it isn’t easy to pick oneself up again, after a fall. And I know that some people just can’t help but be attracted to losers, users, and abusers, who are druggies and who live on the edge. Andy’s always been one of them, although he knows the consequences of being attracted to what he’s attracted to. It’s one of those cases where it’s easier to do what you want and not what’s best for you.

He still hasn’t gone job hunting out of fear that he won’t be hired anywhere due to what happened at Cocoa’s.

He also told me something that he even admitted was sad, sick, and desperate. If you’re a friend of Laura’s, you’re either a druggie, an alkie, or both. A 24-year-old alkie pal of hers really turned him on, so Laura called him from a payphone the other day and told him she could bring this guy (Aubrey) over to him, but that he was wicked drunk. Also, Aubrey told Laura to tell him that if he paid Aubrey $15, he could give him a blowjob. Well, I guess in the end Andy didn’t have to pay him, but that really really is very desperate and seriously sad. He should be saving as much money as possible and he should’ve been hightailing it to job interviews days ago.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1997 Oh, I can’t stand these constant, powerful urges to smoke that I get! Does it ever get any easier? Is it really a case of either bad lungs or having cravings for the rest of my life? I really don’t feel much different now as far as the cravings go than I did when I first quit. My dad said that it only took him about a month to stop thinking about it all the time and Tom says it’ll get better for me, too, but I don’t think so. I know everyone’s different, but I really think I’m gonna be one of those who wants one even after it’s been a year. And even longer, too.

Ma asked for a list of all the flags we’ve got that aren’t worn, so I typed her an inventory of them, which she says she’ll file away. She also shipped out another box to us and asked if Tom reads books, cuz she’s got a good book that deals with computers for him. Also, another T-shirt for him, but she says that this one’s special. I hope so, cuz we both have a million tees.

I told them we sent away for a batch of animal pictures I shot and that I wanted to know if they wanted me to hold off the mice since there’s gonna be pictures of Gizzy the mouse and since a lot of people don’t care to look at them. They said to send whatever I like, though.

This is an inconclusive report on the sick fuck next door, cuz I’m not sure if it was him that just banged in over there or not, but it fits his MO. After the final beat of music, I didn’t hear a door at all. Not even one shut softly, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was him cuz he’s a night person and cuz the serious door slamming basically only went on during the dog’s existence. I tell you - it’s either dog and doors or music. Unfortunately, he’s still parking deep in the carport and with the way things are now set up around here, I can’t see if there’s a car there for sure now. It’s too much of a hassle and it’s not worth it. Also, Tom’s been checking, and if there’s a car there at 4:30 when he gets in this morning, then it’s obvious he stayed the night and that that was really him. Just in case, though, I am gonna be banging outside in a little while (give the freeloaders time to fall asleep if that was he who really came in almost a half-hour ago), and although God may ensure I’m wasting my time and allow them to sleep through it, I’m still gonna hope they hear it, cuz I’m not gonna be hearing them without them hearing me anymore. I’ll also take my chances with whatever God may do to me for it, too.

I can tell you one thing for sure… There’s no way in hell they’ll give me a reaction and let me know it’s waking them up if it is waking them up. It really would take something like me shooting a dog of theirs before they had anything to do with me. And it’d only be through the courts.

I really thank God for answering a couple of prayers of mine and in a sense, he really did answer them, too. Just one of them many years later than I first requested, and another in a partial kind of way. Well, I prayed for years for him to help me help myself quit smoking and I also prayed to have them move next door. The last time I did this was around our little screaming match. Well, he didn’t have them move, but he sure took care of the dog. So, I told him that if he did have anything to do with the dog’s removal - thanks.

I still wish God would grant me my first best and biggest dreams, besides the secondary ones, but some wishes granted are better than no wishes granted cuz that’s usually how it is for me. I either don’t get what I want at all, or I get it after a million years, or I only get a part of it.

Spunky’s really getting to be just about a full-grown pig. It’s almost time for his first nail trim.

Later…

I got my full flow, I’m not stuck, yet I’m now 113 pounds!! I’m starting to feel really desperate here about losing weight, but it’s just sooooo fucking hard. I’ve made such a pig of myself over the last few years. So now that my body is used to having more than just a few bites a day, I can’t starve for a few hours, let alone for a few days. My metabolism is getting slower and slower, and I’m not in my early to mid-20s anymore, either.

Once again I tried to puke after eating but just couldn’t bring myself to do anything so gross. They say that this can be addicting, but after quitting smoking for a month, I think that I could break any addiction I could ever have. If I starved, though, I wouldn’t have to worry about trying to do any disgusting puking, but that’s so much easier said than done for someone who’s hungry all the time and who can’t stand the hunger pains. Still, I think that if I can deal with cigarette cravings, I can deal with being hungry all the time. That’s something that I can adapt to and that’s something that will go away in time. Cigarette cravings won’t. I just have to tell myself that given the fact that I’m sick of being a frump, sick of most of my clothes not fitting, then knowing that I’ll never be pregnant and that I’ll keep gaining weight if I keep not smoking, it’s time to do something about it. I have to just stop eating and deal with being hungry. That is something that will go away, unlike the cigarette cravings.

Tom said that it’s not so much that the bed itself is gonna change us, but that the bed, which is an environmental change/lifestyle change, will lead to our sex lives changing. Uh-huh. Right. Well, like I said, I’m not getting pregnant and I’m not gonna drop the 13-16 pounds I need to drop by wishing I could drop it, so I gotta starve, puke, or do something!

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1997 To get the asshole out of the way first - I heard him come and go with the music at a so-so volume and we’re wondering if he isn’t spending less time there. I hope so! And I hope he doesn’t come back full-time in the spring again, either.

Late last night my period began, little by little. I still haven’t had a full flow yet, but it’s normal for me to spot the day before having a full flow. I always get some type of full flow, though.

I wish that God could’ve allowed me to get pregnant last month, and just let us enjoy this new bed we’re gonna get without any other worries, like problems with sex/sterility. I wish God could’ve allowed me to get pregnant 3 years ago, but if God was ever just waiting for the perfect time, I really don’t see why this wouldn’t be it. I mean, we’ve worked so hard to get to where we are now and get this bed, and the not smoking’s been so hard, and I’ve wanted a kid long enough, so if we aren’t deserving of a kid at this point, and if now isn’t the right time, then God really does hate me. You don’t have to deserve a child in order to have one, as many non-deserving people have them all the time, but since God’s standards are so high for me, if this isn’t it, then I was right all along - it’ll never happen. As far as I can see, though, how much more right, ready, and deserving of a child can we be at this time? I think that if anyone deserves to enjoy this bed and the closeness and normalcy it’ll bring, have a normal, full-time sex life, and have a child, it’s us. I think we’ve been tested enough by God and that we’ve paid our dues dearly and have waited enough for wonderful things like this to happen. However, even though it’s been a miraculous month as of tomorrow since it will be one month since I quit smoking, I haven’t forgotten how God works with me. The bigger the dream, the more I can count on it as always being just that - a dream. There’s a big difference between moving to the desert and quitting smoking, compared to my having a child and God knows it.

There are times I can end up wrong about the things I say that can’t happen, then there are the times I could never end up wrong, no matter how much I wish to hell I could.

Even if I know better, the change I see in Tom lately, since we began making serious plans for the bed and especially since I quit smoking, is his confidence. He was always overly confident. Way too confident. But this is different. I’ve never heard him sound surer of himself when he says that the sex will turn out full-time and normal and that I’ll get pregnant, and you know he’s said that a billion times. There’s something different about it this time, though. Does he know something I don’t? I wonder if like God, he’s been waiting for the perfect time to let go, but just hasn’t said so. If that’s been the case and if he’s been waiting till what he felt was the perfect time to cum like hell, then fine, as long as he does it in the long run, and the long run being real soon, too. In a way, I wish I could know for sure that that has been the case all along, cuz then it’d ease my fears that he’s been full of fears about a kid. Or a miscarriage.

As excited as I am about this bed, which we hope to hell we can order tomorrow and that the Visa card comes in the mail, I’m also quite nervous about it. What if things aren’t the same? What if they’re worse? I knew that as used to as I am with his games, how am I gonna deal with his lying this time around, under these new circumstances? Well, if things can’t get better then I at least hope that they don’t get worse. Better to have things be the same than get worse. He said the bed and the not smoking were what would help his so-called problem. So far, the fact that I haven’t smoked for a month has only produced a slight increase in the sex but the sex has still been the same - one-sided. I usually get off and he gets hard. Hell, I don’t think he’s cum since July or August (I quit charting that and my periods), but how can I believe yet another one of his oh-so-sure cures?

The cat and kittens are warming up to me even more, but not much more. One of the kittens almost took a piece of food out of my hand, but not quite. We’re gonna put chicken wire on the top of the hutch, although I still don’t think they’ll ever be brave enough or even want to live inside some of the time.

[te3nikz]

04/22

Today everything felt empty, it was a very bad day, really every day they are, lately I'm going back to being who I was, a disgusting and ugly person, I always treat everyone badly, maybe I should walk away for a while, the others are not to blame for what happens to me, in reality all of them you're right, I'm the bad one, all this is stupid, every day I feel worse, being alive feels bad but not being dead is a torture, only my girlfriend gives me hope to live, although I probably also hurt her, I really love her and I don't want to do that, the only one who deserves that I cause me any harm is only myself...

Everything with HER, it has become so uncomfortable, sometimes it's nice but the rest of the time it's just a torture, I guess that momentary happiness between us doesn't last long, it's just my fault, I myself ruin my life and ruin her life, her parents have told her and everyone, why is she still being my friend?, I know that deep down she has a grudge against me even if she says no, doesn't realize how she acts?, we're causing each other's harm, sometimes I think I should value that she's still by my side but it just makes us feel bad, I don't think there much to thank, but there are always many times when things are not like that, those times when we are her and I against the world, I don't know if it's worth continuing.

I don't know, I couldn't buy my blades, the whole day was horrible, not a single moment something was really worth it, I'm thinking about how useless I am, how I'm never going to be intelligent or something like that, how I disgust, I would like to hide and not be anyone again, I want to die and lock myself in my mind, underground, with nothing to do, nothing makes sense, sometimes I really want to do it, I've been thinking about it, now more than a dream or fantasy I want it to be a reality, I want to die now, not wake up again, all this is overwhelming me, nothing makes sense anymore, much less I want to look for one.

Maybe, if everything wasn't like that, I wouldn't have to do that, to be here, I would like everything to be different, she, me, everyone, everything.

Why im alive?

[mirrorballwhoistrying]

The Epilogue of Q1 (10.05.23)

April started with a baggage. Help! I haven’t written this for so long that I don’t know where to begin. 

The entire first week of April is all about IELTS test. I was panicking. Suddenly, I was a teenager preparing for a test again. I feel like I was starting everything from scratch. I watched a lot of IELTS videos. I was taking mock tests and the result was that satisfying, I was childish to aim for 8.0 band score when I prepared for like less than 3 weeks. I did the same thing and expected a different result. 

The thing was, I also had to do a field visit to Pursat just 3 days before the test. It wasn’t ideal but there was no other suitable time. I also had to take 2 days leave. The field visit was okay. I got to meet farmers and stepped out of my comfort zone. 

I also started talking to a guy who was my online crush. He suddenly replied to my story when I was on training for CAST. it He came back from Australia for a training. The thing is, I never knew whether someone really likes me or just bored, but aren’t we all bored and alone and need company from others? Isn’t it the nature of humans? Why should I let it bother me this much? 

I kinda went on a date with him after the IELTS test. He was asking me to go to the gym with him for awhile. I didn’t expect that. That we ended up going to massage spa. The first time I met him, he really made us strip to our underwear on the first meet. Help! He has a good body I must say. We also had dinner. He promised me to take me to Tastemania seafood if I ever go to Malborne. Help! The result was out and I got 7.5 on IELTS! Well, I was pretty okay with the result. I mean that’s pretty good for a 3 weeks preparation. I also did apply for AFP again. I keep telling myself not to let it define my whole self-worth like every failure didn’t crumble me into pieces. It still drained me so much I must say. That was also the week of Khmer New Year! The third week of April was a little calm week before the storm again. I was preparing for AAS essays and also the training at Pursat & Vietnam. I must say there were a lot of things to prepare regardless how small the training was. 

I didn’t finish the AAS by the time I went to Pursat. I’m disappointed but not surprised with myself! The slides I did was okay. We went to Pursat and I must say it went better I expected. 

I did my training on the 2nd day morning and it was pretty good. It was about Telegram and messaging app. I was half asleep all the time because b P made me stay with him revising the slides until 1AM!  It was better than the training I did with CAST for real! I should celebrate myself for a small victory! 

We had like 2 days of Rest, before going to Vietnam for the “training”. well, for real I need 2 separate blogs for these 2 experiences. The experience was torturous for real, but after finishing AAS and Pursat training, I felt like it was the end of something already. The journey to Vietnam was whether a field visit or staycation.  And now, I’m back to reality again. The energy surge from the trip is still there a bit I guess that’s why I keep doing this or that.  The most significant event this month was able to meet and talk with 3 seniors I guess. It was b SSD, B PS, B PN... I got to hear their stories and perspectives. It was something I always lack when I was in university. It’s always good to go out there talk to people and see perspectives instead of being trapped in my own mind maze.  I think life keeps teaching me hard this month about the importance of communication and networking. It could really bring you places. I tried my best.  Throwback, I did quite significant things in this first 4 months. I re-started Tik Tok account and reached 1.3K followers. I did my first freelance work, I did NRD2023, I did the side projects like TEBBY merch, did my first external presentation twice, did the project with farmers... It was small and small steps still count, right? for the Q2, I just hope to continue all those and looking forward to other stuff.  That’s all I could think of but definitely there are stuff running in the background of my mind. 

My motto I tried to live is “Don’t be a fraction of who you could be”. 

[thephantomgirl11]

So I'm going to tell y'all a story that's a little weird in my opinion... It's about something strange that happened to me back in I think 2015 when I tried to go to bed... First I'm going to show you an image, but not just any image. This is a scan I found online from a book I used to own. (I didn't throw it away, someone stole it from me ☹️) It's a page from "The Complete Sonic Comics Encyclopedia" by Archie Comics. Here's the page:

Nothing wrong with this page right? Well you're right! But, this exact page has to do with the weird thing that happened. Here's a little bit of backstory that kinda contributes to what happened. In 2015 I got pretty sick, my stomach didn't really agree with me for quite a few years. It all started during the day after Easter. So it was an issue I had to watch for every day and make sure I ate enough and take my pills so it didn't worsen. A few months into 2015, I bought this book because I'm a big fan of the Archie/Sonic comics and I wanted something to distract me from my health issue. I read it the second I bought it (which was around maybe 5:00 pm to 7:00 pm when I got it.) Of course my stomach was pretty upset when I got it, so it took me a little longer than normal to read it. I got around to this page, and then I got ready for bed. I figured I'd just finish the rest of it in the morning.

So, I went to lay down, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, yes, my stomach did slow down on hurting at the moment, so it should have been easier for me to sleep. But, for some odd reason, one of the characters that's seen on that page, started just popping up in my mind... Like, literally the second I closed my eyes, that specific character, in their same pose as what was in the book, as well as their name, started racing through my head and somehow made it hard for me to sleep! Like, have you ever done something or had something on your mind that has ever made it hard to sleep? Like maybe had a really embarrassing day at school? Or something something similar, that just makes it hard to sleep? Well that was what happened.

Now, it's not the first time I've heard about this character, I've read about them on the Sonic fandom page, so I was well aware of them, so I don't know why It'd run through my mind like a 5 year old being shown a horror movie. Wanna know who the character is? Can you guess?

I'll give you a second...

Well... If you guessed this guy, you are absolutely correct!

That's right, Downtown was literally the character my mind decided to spam me with! I don't even understand how or why this character would give me trouble sleeping that night. Like I said, I already knew all about him, he's not really a "traumatizing" character other than being a crooked mob boss. Basically, when I closed my eyes I'd see his image and here "Downtown Ebony Hare" over and over again. And me having trouble sleeping, would result in triggering my stomach aches, which was something I didn't want to deal with. Which, that unfortunately did happen around 3:00 am. So, I then had to read a slice of bread to make it stop a bit (I had to eat small items constantly to stop the pain back then.) But, when I tried to sleep, it happened again! "Downtown Ebony Hare," over and over again until I finally fell asleep at 5:00 fucking am!

That was literally the only time that's happened in my life. I don't understand why it happened. I wasn't upset about anything, I was actually very calm but also pretty happy I got that book. I felt like my mind was trying to torture me for some odd reason with a one shot character that isn't very threatening. I'd understand if it was a character like, I don't know, Leatherface or something like that. But this character is just a dr*g dealing mob boss from a Sonic comic...

The reason I'm talking about this, is actually because my older sister experienced this phenomenon recently, and asked me about my experience. It wasn't the same character for her, but she still experienced it. She wanted to know what fully happened since I told her a brief summary of it back in 2015. And since it happened her, she wanted to know if it was similar to what she had happen.

Now, my question is, has anyone else have a weird incident like this? What do you think really caused it? Is it something common? Is there a rational explanation for it? Or is it something unheard of? I just know that this incident has made me annoyed with this character lol. Like I didn't really like the character before all that, nor did I hate the character. I actually wanted to see him in more recent comics, but now I'm not so sure about that anymore. I of course, will draw some fan art of him later on, as I feel like he doesn't have really any of him. I'm just gonna make sure I finish it before it hits nightfall. Anyway, that's all I have for now. Hope this was entertaining in some kind of way.