Building a Life

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]

I'm tired. I'm tired of this bed. I'm tired of the false pity and the twenty questions from people. I'm tired of Simon. I'm tired of the nurses. I'm just tired of all of it. I don't want to do this anymore.

I'm getting rid of Simon tomorrow. I don't care what it takes. I can't deal with him anymore. He wants to run my life and I can't let him. I still don't know why he's back. It makes no sense to me. I don't believe his story. I don't believe him.

I don't think I can see Breacan anymore, either. I'm tired of the secrets with him. I'm tired of the way he looks at me, like I'm some sort of nuisance to be dealt with, then forgotten.

Maybe I need to leave this city, for good. It's only bad memories for me here any more. I don't want that. I don't need it.

[Written in a leather jounral, kept under the edge of the bed.]

I tried to stay awake today, when he came. I tried to talk to him, to find out what he was doing, what he was giving to me. It didn't work. He just shook his head and ignored my questions. He treated me like a child.

I'm not a child. I'm an adult, a grown man. And I should be the one making decisions about what happens to me. But the nurses defer to him and I know I'm too hopped up to really be able to do anything. No one is going to believe me. A doctor and a friend, looking out for his injured ex-lover. He couldn't be doing what I think he's doing. No one on the outside would believe it.

So, here I am, left to talk to myself. I wonder if a nurse would send some letters for me. I'll have to ask in the morning. It would be nice to let people know I'm not dead.

[ooc: Written in a leather journal, stashed under the edge of the hospice bed]

He's asleep and I can't. Ain't that the bitch of it. He's passed out and happily exhausted, looking like he ain't got a care in the world. Don't reckon he really does. But me, cursed with the mind of someone who'll only live so long, am still up. I know it's frustration. And it ain't Leo's fault. Not even a little bit. He ain't been nothing but a sweetheart to me.

Nah. My frustration is my own fault. I'm just waiting for the roller coaster ride in my fucking brain to calm the fuck down. Course, I do shit like tonight and tax the overworked lump of gray matter more. I hate having to bust out the legal speak. Just making myself string the words together makes my head hurt. Having to do it with someone I actually like... Christ Almighty, what a pain in the fucking ass.

And, 'course, headache and wine turns me into a real pisser. Just wanted a little fucking attention. And even negative attention is attention, yeah? So I got lippy. Lippy's something I'm good at. It's parta my issue with authority and shit. Always trying to top, even from the bottom. That shit's always doomed to abysmal failure. And that fact ain't ever gonna make me stop.

Yeah, he probably deserved a congratulations or something, but that ain't me. I'm a cranky, selfish, kid hating faggot. Have been for more then a decade, that shit ain't gonna change, no matter who the baby daddy is. Guess that's the upside to being queer. I ain't really gotta worry about knocking some bitch up.

He wants an apology. Thing is, an apology would be a lie. I ain't sorry I said it. Ain't never gonna be sorry for speaking my honest opinion, no matter how much it pisses people off. Wonder how long I can go just not worrying about it. I got Mel squared away. And I got Leo to keep me company.

Ya know, outta all this, that's the most important thing to me. I got Leo. Maybe it's outta respect for our house guest, but he ain't playing around. Ya'd think it was cause he likes me or something. All I know is that it's damn sweet and it had me in tears.

Fuck but I'm an emotional queen. Need to get my shit together in a bad, bad way. I think, maybe, I just need a few days of fucking and fighting with my man. Get my shit together that way.

I ain't been to a meeting in years. Bill W. was a great guy and all, but really, I hate the idea of turning over control to anyone. A higher power that I can't see and don't talk to me? Even harder. But I clearly can't even keep a rein on myself these days.

Thursday night was a close thing. I forgot my suit at the cleaners cause I was trying to remember where the best place to score was. The only thing that actually kept me from getting fucked up was how long I'd been out of that lifestyle.

Hard thing to admit, that ya got a problem like that. Even harder to admit it to a guy ya think ya might be falling for. Course, at this point, hard to admit ya might be falling for someone. Still, swallowed my pride and asked him to come with me to a meeting. He's really the only person I know around here, so I'm not likely to be sitting in a meeting full of boys I've fucked. That's just awkward.

Course, meeting means that I'm gonna actually have to tell him what I've done. Poor guy, getting himself saddled with me. He deserves better. A lot better. I'm not the prime catch I look or act like. I got a freight train worth of baggage. Baggage that makes me scared of my own reactions to things.

Still, gotta go to a meeting, then I gotta find a way to tell him what I'm feeling. Only right that he knows I've been thinking about what it would take to move, to be closer. Only right that he knows I been thinking about what I could do to get him closer. Don't know if I've got the guts, though, to say the words that used to come so easily. Don't even know if the time is right or if he comes close to feeling the same way.

I know I'm taking a chance here, that he'll read it. Maybe he'll comment. Maybe he'll come looking for me, since he's just in the other room. Maybe it'll scare him, maybe he feels the same way.

Or maybe I'm just a chicken shit. At this exact moment, seems the most likely answer.