Who or what and more importantly why . . .

Every time I get a hand-hold on this she comes back with something <newOLD to swing at me. It's harder it's faster it's heavier and it seems to be getting harder to recover from [just in the past couple days. sure it'll smeg off eventually. emoemoemo]

sick of complaining --

Jim said, "You're completely terrified that I'm going to up and leave you at any second," to which I nodded vigorously, "and it's affecting the relationship."

[without a pause to wonder, don't be silly -- wait. we actually have a relationship? when did you decide this? not that i'm complaining, mind you . . .]

"Give me one fucking reason why you wouldn't!"

"Because I don't do that kind of shit."




Fine, but I'm still choking on my own shit. I'm sick of it, naturally -- who wouldn't be? -- but it's so ingrained in me. I'm not entirely sure that I want to give it up.

I'm afraid of pain to a ridiculous degree. The stupid part is, I know I could block it out pretty easily if I ever put my mind to it. I don't know if it was the alchohol or the state of mind or both, but I can shut down the physical side of myself with an eerie ease. He said he would have broken my arm if I bit him again -- fuck it, we were both drunk, right? Apparently it brings out our hidden monsters. -- and in retrospect, were I not owned by the government, I would so love to push it. See how far he would go [I'm sure that he would go all the way. He's training himself to become a weapon, right? And "Richard" doesn't care any more than effigy does.] how much I could take.

Well, no. I'm a fucking coward. Even as effigy. A fucking coward.

I could never hurt him, I realize. I know I need that at this point, I know he's the only thing keeping me alive and he'll be what pulls me out of this hole -- if anything does.

He's more mature at 19 than I probably will be at fifty. When he's fifty, he'll be a fucking master. I'll be lucky if I make to fifty. Shit, I'll be lucky if I make it to thirty. You're supposed to get over this stage in your life where you thing suicide is an option by the time you graduate high school, right. I rather haven't. Which leads me to the realization that it's going to be with me forever. She is going to be with me forever. However long that forever may be.

She says repeatedly that he doesn't give a shit, no one will, no one can. A laundry list of reasons why they can't, why I'm not worth it, etc. etc. I can't help but wonder if it's all just an excuse for her to die again. And make it last. She wants nothing else. I wish I could give it to her. But I need her.

I don't need her.

I need her.

I don't know. Ecch.



If I have someone to be strong for, I can. If I have someone to protect, I could probably take an insane amount of damage for their sake. Jim is entirely self-sufficient. He's a fucking stone piller. I can cling to it but I can contribute nothing. In the end, he's almost as crippling as she is.

what