No, that doesn't relate to most of my life, only to one far-too-distant person. *slight smile*

Sore and sick, but then when am I not, of late?

And... gods, what was it I was going to write?

Oh. Woke Spike-boy up today... he'd been Projecting, or Travelling, or something else with an upper-case letter and far too much meaning, and it seemed as if he was in pain, so I curled up nearby and woke him. He moved, shifted, stretched, growled... and I nearly turned into The Amazing Panic-Girl. I'd forgotten what it's like to be that terrified. *shivers*

Disgusts me, that those triggers and those particular bits of pattern-recognition are still lurking in my subconscious. I want them gone. I want them out. I don't want to be afraid.

In part because the more afraid I get, the more inclined I am to either a) go Domme to rather painful extremes, or b) go sub and curl up in a little ball until it all goes away.

Neither of which is practical right now, sadly. I want my stomach to settle. I want to stop hurting. Neither of these options is proving to be of much use. *sighs* Dunno what I'll do now.

I just know it'll suck. A lot.

Funny how often that's the case.