(no subject)

In the last couple of weeks, I have come to a conclusion. I have an amazing number of fair weather friends. As soon as the shit hit the fan in our personal life, everyone fled like we were all contagious.

EVERYONE.

How the fuck is that supposed to make me feel? I have stood next to people through some pretty major shit. My world falls down around my ears and suddenly I might as well have the plague.

Fuck all of you.

Some support would have been nice.

Now, now I don't want it. I will do this without your fucking help.

It's too late. There's nothing left to rebuild here. All the bridges are burned. I'm using what's left of them to feed my hate. It's the only thing keeping me warm.


[ooc: Stage Two of the Kübler-Ross model is Anger. Anger is going to last for a while.]

[Private] 10/29/08

I did it. I might actually have been the hardest thing I've done in nearly a decade.

I told Simon to leave. But that was not the hard part. The hard part came when he wouldn't. The hard part came when I had to call the police and have him removed.

I had to call the cops and have him removed.

It took Nurse Nancy's help to do it. She'd been watching him since Breacan had come. She made the calls that got me a new doctor. She stopped drugging me during the day so I could think.

She saved my life, when no one else could.

Tomorrow, if the new doctor approves, we're going to the court house to get a restraining order. He's not getting back in.

[Written in a leather journal]