Just for laughs...

Ladies and Gentlemen, George Bush Saves a Baby.

Thankyou.

Where the mind runs free.

After handing in my Final Draft of my first essay, It seems that I have a day or so of slack time in my uni work. In general, this might mean that I could take tomorrow off and, well, relax.

Alas, this is probably not going to happen, as I need to work as much as possible while I've still got the work to do. Tomorrow, thus, will probably be a 9 to 5 workday for me. Well, as much as it could ever be, anyway.

And yet...

I dunno. I've been feeling on edge for a while tonight. I'm not sure entirely what's causing it.

I suspect. I suspect I know what's caused it. But I don't want that to be doing this to me. I'm worried that watching CSI tonight about a rape case is affecting me more than I thought it was at the time.

It's...

I dunno. I've read so much literature on reactions to rape, on traumatic events, and this isn't out of place. Hell, it's downright normal. I should not be feeling agitated about feeling agitated!

But I am. I don't want to be feeling this, not at all. I don't want to feel like I'm broken because I can't watch an episode of CSI without feeling horrible for the rest of the night. I want to feel like I'm in control of how my brain is working, even if it's not true (and boy, do I know how not true that is!). I'm more than frustrated at my mind's betrayal - I'm this close to angry at it. How dare my head remind me that I still have this gaping hole in my psyche that I've been happily keeping under wraps for the past month! How dare my head show me that I'm still trying to push myself far more than I should be, all so I can claim I'm still taking care of myself.

More importantly, how dare it pipe up and tell me something, anything is wrong. I don't want anything to be wrong. I want not to be crying right now, ashamed at myself for being hurt right now. I want to be fucking over this.

But I can't. I can't be over this, not for a while.