Can't Get to Happy, Can't Stay There
Aug. 19th, 2012 08:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
breezeshadowI feel alone.
It cuts in almost the second I am not longer talking with someone. It interferes when I'm talking with people. If I see people talking without me. Signs they were talking without me. Over me. Through me.
It's something I've never really been able to deal with or work through, but lately it's just hitting HARD. Blah.
To try and get rid of this shit, I bring you one of my characters having a more miserable time than I am:
She wished she could blame the headache and heartache on something she had done the night before -- but she was one of the few Welen doctors who had stuck to their all-mighty snobby oath, to keep their minds sharp, and to not dilute its brilliance with any sort of mind-altering chemical. The irony that this elminated many of the medicines they gave to patients was lost on most of them, except for those who used it as an excuse to drink until they vomited, or smoke until they saw dragons. But she did nothing of the sort, and just lived in the hypocrisy.
So it was not something she had taken that she could blame for feeling out of energy, out of love, out of time. But perhaps it was the nightmare. She had them since the event that created them -- but at least they used to be interrupted. Tegre had a sense for when she was in the middle of it, and would wake her up, no matter how much time it took, until he had wrenched out of her memories and back into reality, where she was not twelve, not being dragged into a closet, not helpless to the whims of hormonal boys.
She had no one to wake her up anymore.
Kader sighed as she pushed her sweaty hair out of her eyes, ignoring the tears and shakes. They would go away in a few minutes, whether she acknowledged them or not. Some obnoxious bird was much happier about being awake, and she wanted to kill it for breakfast out of spite. Instead, she got up, found the bathroom, and washed up quickly, chasing the dreams away with icy water left from the day before. It was beyond cold in the room so she finished her business rapidly, leaving chilled but scrubbed clean. She then gathered her things.
The cafe down the block was just opening, firing up the ovens, brewing coffee, and seeming surprised when she dragged herself through the door. She was relieved they did not ask; though this was the earliest she had come in, apparently they figured it must be for the same reasons as always. One of the chefs took the time out of his day to set some of the fresh coffee in front of her.
It was always the little actions that made her feel a bit less alone, but that morning, she barely noticed.
---
I hope if I keep writing this I can give Kader all of my emo and then get over myself. If only it worked that way, hm?
Tschuess.
It cuts in almost the second I am not longer talking with someone. It interferes when I'm talking with people. If I see people talking without me. Signs they were talking without me. Over me. Through me.
It's something I've never really been able to deal with or work through, but lately it's just hitting HARD. Blah.
To try and get rid of this shit, I bring you one of my characters having a more miserable time than I am:
She wished she could blame the headache and heartache on something she had done the night before -- but she was one of the few Welen doctors who had stuck to their all-mighty snobby oath, to keep their minds sharp, and to not dilute its brilliance with any sort of mind-altering chemical. The irony that this elminated many of the medicines they gave to patients was lost on most of them, except for those who used it as an excuse to drink until they vomited, or smoke until they saw dragons. But she did nothing of the sort, and just lived in the hypocrisy.
So it was not something she had taken that she could blame for feeling out of energy, out of love, out of time. But perhaps it was the nightmare. She had them since the event that created them -- but at least they used to be interrupted. Tegre had a sense for when she was in the middle of it, and would wake her up, no matter how much time it took, until he had wrenched out of her memories and back into reality, where she was not twelve, not being dragged into a closet, not helpless to the whims of hormonal boys.
She had no one to wake her up anymore.
Kader sighed as she pushed her sweaty hair out of her eyes, ignoring the tears and shakes. They would go away in a few minutes, whether she acknowledged them or not. Some obnoxious bird was much happier about being awake, and she wanted to kill it for breakfast out of spite. Instead, she got up, found the bathroom, and washed up quickly, chasing the dreams away with icy water left from the day before. It was beyond cold in the room so she finished her business rapidly, leaving chilled but scrubbed clean. She then gathered her things.
The cafe down the block was just opening, firing up the ovens, brewing coffee, and seeming surprised when she dragged herself through the door. She was relieved they did not ask; though this was the earliest she had come in, apparently they figured it must be for the same reasons as always. One of the chefs took the time out of his day to set some of the fresh coffee in front of her.
It was always the little actions that made her feel a bit less alone, but that morning, she barely noticed.
---
I hope if I keep writing this I can give Kader all of my emo and then get over myself. If only it worked that way, hm?
Tschuess.
