I guess I'll be using the journal.

.

They are just flashbacks, just memories. I got through it then, I can get through it now. No viaulas just physical, and it's like I can hear the commands, or maybe I just know what they're going to be. What's another flashback anyway? Just one more round, I can deal.

I'm kneeling at an altar rail, "priest" standing in front of me; "take my life and let it be always only all for thee..." "The body of God" and receive. Work had to receive it, suck hard, work harder and don't waste a drop.

I keep seeing Osiris, out of the corner of my eye, in a room I just walked into before I'm sure it's empty. He;s everywhere, and nowhere, and he's going to get me. Every night he catches up, but right now, right now I just feel his finers. Need to make appeasement to those that wish us harm. Anything to stop this now.

I just realised the last bout lasted nearly a year, according to dates of posting things here. And that's scary.

I thought I'd write a new one.

And then I realised I had nothing to say.

But the line that "I've not written anything in an age" is clearly a lie. I've been writing, and that's a wierdly good feeling. Now I think the trick is going to be to keep writing.

Whilst doing the uni thing.

Exam today was exam-y. I passed. I don't need to think about it anymore.

I'm thinking about labels. What they mean, what they signify, my emotional response to them. What ones various parts of me give myself.

And also toying with ideas or different consciousnesses contributing to the same piece, I know this has happened once before, and the poem came out as if it was on three different "floors". It's an intersting idea I might play with futher, perhaps.

And on that pretentious note, I shall go back to writing about faeries.

I've not written anything in an age. And that's really rather depressing.

What I have done is hit new lows.

But that's in the past, as I keep telling myself, and I'm looking forward.

I didn't make a New Year's Resolution. I did make one for this term though. That I would go to all my lectures and classes. I broke it this morning, day 1, because I still feel like I got hit by a truck. I have no idea what's wrong. I'm hot and cold and dizzy and shaky and my limbs feel like lead. But my head is completely clear, and I can tell I'm not all that depressed.

I'm deciding not to mind too much. I have 9am Hebrew class tomorrow, followed by 2 lectures. I shall be at all of them. Yes I shall.

I got new music yesterday. The Fray, "How to safe a life". The single, not the album. Supposedly, this is me. I'm not sure I see it myself. But I do like the track, and you can, to a point, dance to it, if you're me.

Well, I'm 22 now. And it doesn't feel very different to being 21.

I'm a dress size smaller, which is nice, but means I have to go shopping, which is not.

Home for the weekend is a good place to be.

I realise that last time, I was writing about the many things that were stressful to me, and yes, most of them, to some degree are. I'm taking a break from all of that though, and being here, away from uni, away from the drama, and away from all the people, or the one person, I really don't want to see.

The IV was fun, and was stressful, and was problematic. As much as I may be taking "empowering" type steps after being assaulted, I still hate that it happened. I'm forcing myself bck to the Union so I don't get hang ups, and I'm reminding myself of what actually happened so my immagination doesn't run away with itself, but still. I think I found the guy on facebook on Wednesday, just bumped into him. Something is so wrong about that.

As well as going to the Union, I'm going to debating, because damnit, he's not going to spoil what I love. Judging the Mace next weekend.

Auditions on Monday, it's a call back. I need a new piece, and I have no idea what to sing. At least I have music and time this time though. I want in and I want a part, theatre is good for me.

I have concern about what I will hear tomorrow, the rumour mill is spinning, and DSC know either way.

I started writing again last night. It's been an age since I picked up a pen and it shows. For the past few months all I've done is edit, no new material has made it out of me. This is, in part, the doctor's idea about using my dreaming constructivly. I should imagine, if it ever gets finished, and if it ever gets up here, that the mature rating won't be strong enough. But then, "Child called it" was never quite my style.