Not happy. Hurting, frustrated, and NOT HAPPY.
Previous - this entry written on August 28, 2007 at 5:37 am - Next

Not gonna cry, not gonna cry, not gonna cry, not gonna cry.

Dreams... I don't know for sure when I fell asleep but it was early, and there were dreams, such dreams, killing-me dreams, miscarriages, running, fear, friends turning against me, familiar place becoming strange, no one beside me, no one to lean on, just endless terrified running trying to figure out what was going on and barring that, trying to find a way to die that didn't get me reincarnated (usually back into the same body) within about a minute and a half, with even worse things happening. Nightmares, nothing but nightmares, these were. I don't dare even try to go back to sleep, just the thought of closing my eyes makes me start shivering so hard I can't type.

I knew I wasn't entire over the miscarriage but this? This was ridiculous. This was everything bad about it magnified a zillion times, brought out, in several cases blamed on me, and in the dream even the irrational blame, it was my fault the ambulances were driving too slow, it was my fault I didn't know that the placenta was going to get infected, it was my fault for going to the ER at the wrong time of day, I should have gone when there was a different doctor on staff, what the FUCK, subconscious, are you TRYING to make me slit my damn wrists? Seriously.

But yeah, I really can't sleep right now. Apparently I'd been talking a lot in my sleep too, joy. That ONLY happens when I'm seriously stressed and miserable, a Happy Jax does not do sleeptalking nonsense.

I've got a little bit of chocolate left. Randy is sleeping in the living room, apparently, which means I can't turn on the TV and try to hide myself in mindless movies for a while, my usual way to calm down and cool off. There's no food in the house. I talked to Rhia earlier and somehow she got the impression that she was getting minimal rent in return for doing the dishes - what the fuck? We can do our own damn dishes, we aren't going to let someone fill a room, have two OTHER someones over 24/7, and a large dog over 5 days out of the week, make messes of their own, eat all of our fucking tuna fish, almost never buy toilet paper, paper towels, lightbulbs, etc, and in payment for this pay only $200 a month and do the dishes sometimes?!?!?!??!? No. NO fucking way.

Puppy, please get here soon, Cate's not going to be any good standing up to them on this, I really need you right now.

Torian, I love you, gods know I love you, I'm sorry if you've been feeling abandoned. *nuzzles*

Fuck this, I am going to wake his ass up and make him sleep somewhere else, I want comfort, this is MY house, this is fucking stupid. It's gonna be a fight, likely. At 6 am. I. Don't. Care. My territory, he is NOT pack, he can FUCK OFF AND DIE if I can't have my back-feel-better spot and my tacky horror shows and what little comfort I can still get from calling this place mine... hard to do, when it's constantly full of Rhia's boys. *twitch*

Oh hey, add injury to insult, apparently he left bruises on Deborah yesterday-ish. He so much as lays a FINGER on me and I'm screaming for Cate to call the cops while I beat him senseless.

No, Jax is not a happy camper right now.

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