Yeah, yeah, the bard too.
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We've switched out one of the barbells of mine for one of Caleb's rings... feels weird, and getting it in place was... ick. However, at least now that nipple has stopped hurting. Still weird. Perhaps I should rephrase - it stopped hurting as long as I keep a teabag on it.

"The Man Upstairs" by Voltaire is just as hilarious as Kadin made it seem to be... and is now stuck in my head. Mostly because the man upstairs from us seems to delight in moving furnature at odd hours. Loud noises.

Rambling. Yeah. Hi. *blinks* I really have been neglecting this poor journal lately, several months with nothing but sketchy updates. Makes me feel bizarrely guilty. Then again, now I'm drinking lukewarm tea, listening to Sneaker Pimps, debating my next piece of artwork, and considering writing. I guess the more things change, the more they stay the same... and they changed. I had thought it was a change I could cope with but apparently my subconscious has other ideas.

Woke up in the middle of the night from a dream where I kept dying. A very small group of people - four to be exact - kept killing me over and over again. Then he walked in and I thought I was suddenly safe... except then his hands were over my mouth and somehow I knew that this time I was going to die and stay dead. Final. That's it.

And yet, I miss him. Someone shoot me?

I... maybe putting this a bit more clearly will help. See, Kadin... geh. Kadin isn't sure he can deal with being owned.

And he's been unsure for months now.

And my world is not quite stable enough for me to just zone out and wait for my subconscious mind to catch up with my conscious mind when it comes to coping with things like this.

I think I need to go poke at Photoshop for a while. Or write, aye. Or SOMETHING. This is driving me nuts. I don't even know who to talk to about it.

No, that's not true.

I know who to talk to about it. I just can't seem to bring it up.

I'll be fine tomorrow. Honest. Aren't I always fine, sooner or later?

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