It's another bad day or well... I should say week. It started yesterday evening when I woke up. I got four hours sleep before I woke up again exhausted, my entire body seems to be working against me at the moment. I'm so tired I can barely make it out of bed. My place is trashed, I don't have the energy to clean or do the dishes. It will get better at some point, I know that. But right when you're in the moment it's really hard to see. I keep flashing back to horrible times in my life, and I beat myself up for letting myself go there. But there's nothing I can do to stop it.
I realised something odd the other day. My mother came to visit me a couple of days ago. We talked a bit about things I've not been able to talk to her about before and it was sort of a relief, but also disturbing. But I realised I couldn't look her in the eyes. And when I thought about it, the day before when I met my father for our weekly conversation. I hadn't been able to look him in the eyes either. I've always been able to look people in the eyes when I talk to them. I've even gotten complaints about it because apparently it's too intense. I've always preferred eye-contact. Much because you can actually see people then. But now. I'm not able to.
Victim. That word is so negativly loaded.
So, I wanted to write here everyday. And then I missed one! So I'm gonna write two pieces today. I already wrote the short story, and here is the daily rant. Missing days isn't forreign to me. Last month I managed to loose two whole days. I was wholly convinced it was Monday, while it was Sunday. And the a Wednesday just up and left...I had no idea where it went. And I still don't.
I gave up on the "Crossing Lines" series. I mean, it's a good series but it didn't engage me that much. So now I've moved on to "Criminal Minds". Ive seen it before, well some of it. But I love it. As I've harped on about before, I love how the minds works and why we think like we do. Of course none of these shows are likely to be 100% accurate, but it's still interesting to watch. The characters are engaging!
My situation seems to slowly start to solve itself, well... not by itself. It has help from me and some of the people who care a lot about me. Now will follow a waterfall of doctors appointments and a stream of people who seem to have gotten their diplomas at the back of a milk carton that want to tell me what's wrong with me. I have high hopes that this time will be better though. So here's to hoping.
This is part of my project. It's very scary for me to post it, but here goes.
Pain helps. Not the kind where you cut yourself, she didn't like the idea of the scars being therefor the rest of her life. But the pain of having a part of her body pierced by a needle. Putting in a piece of jewlery to fill the piece of ugly. Or having a different type of needle push into her skin fifty times a second to reveal a beautiful image or meaningful words. It was a relief to feel the pain on the outside instead of the inside, and wtch it become something productive, something to serve a purpose. Like a tattoo or a piercing. For the duration of the process she could let the pain wash over her freely, without it breaking her.
Anxiety was grumbling in the back of her mind, it was a loophole he hadn't counted on. Lachlan was more than a little smug about that, and inwardly grinned at him. She might pay for that later, but she didn't care. It was worth it. She mindlessly fiddled with her new piercing while mulling her thoughts over in her head. The bus and Anxiety both jerking her from side to side in the turns. She's on her way home to her tiny flat in the east of town.
As far as capital cities in the world go, Oslo was fairly safe and a good place to live. But the part of town she resided in currently was admittedly, dodgy. She had been pretty sure she had stepped in some blood on her way home the other day. But that might have been Imagination playing tricks on her since she'd been on the phone with her mother some minutes before, she'd been kind enough to inform Lachlan that there had been reports of gunshots in the area Lachlan lived. But she was still convinced it had been blood. Imagination grinned innocently at her while Anxiety scoffs. Norway being a very small country, mostly filled with mountains and forests, has a population of about six million people. And so statistics for things like murder is fairly low. About one point five murders a year in fact. Lachlan takes a moment to wonder how that works before shrugging off the thought.
Anyway, she thinks to herself. Her area of town might be a little dodgy. But it's a place to live. A place that's hers. Blinking she realises two things at once, One, she's not supposed to touch the new piercing and two, next stop is hers. Getting up she makes sure to hols on tight to the handgrips hanging from the ceiling of the bus. The Oslo busdrivers have been known to send little old ladies flying when they realise it's time to push the pedal next to the gas. Grunting a little as the bus jerks to a stop, the brakes whining loudly, like they're really annoyed, she gets out.
The doors squeak shut behind her and the Italian designed bus drives off towards it's next destination. Lachlan wraps her thick brown winter coat around herself and starts making her way down the path towards home, gently avoiding the spot she thought she saw the blood while thinking vaguely of the idiocy of the government getting busses from Italy, which is no where near the same climate, to Norway that has been known to be well below -30 degrees celcius in winter. It's only the beginning of winter now, but she can already feel the rime in her nose from the cold air. Heralding another eight months of cold and darkness.
So... I woke up, looked at the time and then I panicked and then I calmed down. I hate the feeling where you think you've missed something. Thankfull I hadn't. So I went down to the shop, got some nuts and walked my dog. It's been a wholly uninteresting day. Utterly non-happening. And I think I fried my brain yesterday. So I'll try again tomorrow! Maybe I'll have something more interesting to write.
So, I finished the "Scorpion" series. Rather... I've seen all I can see. The next season starts in October. And of course, it ended on a cliffhanger. So I started a new one, it's not as good but it's interesting. Called "Crossing Lines". Basically it's about a bunch of police officers from different countries with different specialties working together as a European "FBI".
It's kind of ironic, watching this series, cause we're currently working on getting my Russian boyfriend to the country that I live in. It's proving to be a massive effort and a giant headache, I'm pretty sure that if we put all the papers together it would reach me to my neck. The country I live in is a part of a trade deal made between a lot of different countries called "Schengen" and is also a part of but not a part of the EU. So I can pretty much travel anywhere I want within this area just with my passport and/or ID. It looks like the best way of getting him here to me is to marry him.
Of course, this was a nonspoken agreement between the two of us. That it would happen eventually. We just never thought we'd have to do it so... coldly. I used to be a hopeless romantic before I met him, but now... I'm a romantic full of hope. Marriage was never a huge deal to me. Like it is to a lot of women. There's nothing wrong with that of course, not at all. It just never was to me. But now, I find myself liking the idea of being surprised with an engagement ring and all the girly stuff I never bothered with before. All that's ever mattered to me is love.
It's starting to get colder outside, Autumn is definetly on it's way. Soon it'll be October again and that means I've been living here in my flat for a year. Time blew past me without me noticing. Funnily enough I'm still living out of boxes. Well, no. That's not stricktly true. I still have a lot of stuff in boxes. But I like my place. It's small, but more than enough space for me and my little Jack Russell Terrier, Han Solo. He's the rock in my life, always happy and ready to play. When everything is so dark and scary that I can barely move, he comes over and licks my face and wags his little tail. He's like a plushie really, his coat is unreasonably soft. Man's best friend indeed. He's affectionatly known as the "love dog" because of his wonderful personality and the fact that he has a heart shaped spot on his side. He's tricolour. Black, white and a tiny bit of brown.
Now I'm going to try to get some sleep.
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