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Oct. 24th, 2002 04:03 pm
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[personal profile] rinue
Patrick says that I sleep with my eyes slightly open, and this is perhaps why I'm such a light sleeper. He smiles gently as he says this, and strokes my hair which shoots out like static flame. We are both exhausted and slightly sick; we feed off each other's insomnia and my new, constant, nightmares.

They're not terrifying in any classical sense, nor can I remember them by noon. If I prod my brain I can recall mild discomfort, irritability. And blood. Trace, whisper amounts of blood. He held me last night, an uncommon role reversal.

Everybody's asking me whether I'm excited about the wedding, as though it would be possible for me to say anything but yes. It startles me a little to realize how much it's going to mean to me - that not only will others try to treat me differently, but that I'll try to treat me differently. I don't understand that - I don't understand the difference between saying "I love you Patrick and will stay with you always" and saying "I love you Patrick and will stay with you always. Sign here," but it's important to me.

I don't know what that says about me as a person. It makes me edgy.

I want to make a cup of hot tea, but the microwave smells.
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