CABS. STOP DRIVING BY, CABS. I KNOW YOU SEE ME HAILING, CABS!!
Today is the last full day I have in America for two and a half months. It's going to be hard, no lie there, and I'm scared. But I think I have a lot to be optimistic about. Mostly that Bebe and I seem to have tracked down the source of my/our problems: it looks incredibly plausible that I have Bipolar I Disorder. It accounts for pretty much every strange thing about me - I don't think it will be difficult to persuade my doctor to give me all of the medication plus routine therapy.
My father is taking a day off work to come and get me from the airport in the car, which I can only think means he wants something from me - I'm nervous because he's actually really good at getting things from me, especially when I'm alone with him. But all the good jobs and all the good doctors are in London, and I don't actually know anybody else there, so I guess I'm staying with him. Maybe if he keeps being this nice to me we'll get on well this time. He told me he'd teach me how to paint, so I'm incredibly excited about that... The last time I showed him my art he was really complimentary. I'm more just worried that he'll turn on me once he finds out I'm coming back in May. But my father's always going to be like that. No big surprises there.
I've gotten hella into Spider Man lately, actually. Mostly for the Osborns, but I've started caring a lot about Peter and some of the other cast, too. Goose bought me The Osborn Identity American Son whatever as a Valentine's Day present and that's definitely coming on the plane with me. Some of my favorite writing and characterization, right there. Oh, Norman. Other than Spider-Man, Daredevil is also becoming a really, really huge part of me. So I'm pretty glad that they're rebooting him in July, after the amazing charlie foxtrot that was Shadowland (and to think I was once so excited...) Tron is still there too, of course - with all the crazy life changes and discovery of what my actual condition is lately I've been out of the loop on that one, but I'll get back in there in good time.
I'm afraid of leaving this apartment, right now. I'm going to miss my desk and my butterflies and my and Bebe's art up on the walls. I'm going to miss my family, I'm going to miss cooking for Goose and seeing Matty off to school and taking care of Bebe's back, I'm going to miss harassing everybody for kisses, I'm going to miss having people to go to and hug and touch when I'm feeling like shit. I know that I'm going to cry like a child on the plane back like I always do. But then I remember that it won't be long before I don't have to leave ever again, I remember that I'm loved (that I really am - after that not-apology that meant the damn world to me, I can always make myself remember that so long as I hold on to the memory), I remember that no matter how far I have to go, I'll always come back. That one day in the not-so-distant future we'll have a big house and a nice car and a pool with a shark in it and no matter how fucked up we are now, we can always get better. And I guess a million therapist stories and stupid jobs and endless caffeine abuse later, we'll still be together, and we'll still want to be together, and that's really all I want.
So, I guess I won't be so scared to get on that plane after all. Not this time.
My father is taking a day off work to come and get me from the airport in the car, which I can only think means he wants something from me - I'm nervous because he's actually really good at getting things from me, especially when I'm alone with him. But all the good jobs and all the good doctors are in London, and I don't actually know anybody else there, so I guess I'm staying with him. Maybe if he keeps being this nice to me we'll get on well this time. He told me he'd teach me how to paint, so I'm incredibly excited about that... The last time I showed him my art he was really complimentary. I'm more just worried that he'll turn on me once he finds out I'm coming back in May. But my father's always going to be like that. No big surprises there.
I've gotten hella into Spider Man lately, actually. Mostly for the Osborns, but I've started caring a lot about Peter and some of the other cast, too. Goose bought me The Osborn Identity American Son whatever as a Valentine's Day present and that's definitely coming on the plane with me. Some of my favorite writing and characterization, right there. Oh, Norman. Other than Spider-Man, Daredevil is also becoming a really, really huge part of me. So I'm pretty glad that they're rebooting him in July, after the amazing charlie foxtrot that was Shadowland (and to think I was once so excited...) Tron is still there too, of course - with all the crazy life changes and discovery of what my actual condition is lately I've been out of the loop on that one, but I'll get back in there in good time.
I'm afraid of leaving this apartment, right now. I'm going to miss my desk and my butterflies and my and Bebe's art up on the walls. I'm going to miss my family, I'm going to miss cooking for Goose and seeing Matty off to school and taking care of Bebe's back, I'm going to miss harassing everybody for kisses, I'm going to miss having people to go to and hug and touch when I'm feeling like shit. I know that I'm going to cry like a child on the plane back like I always do. But then I remember that it won't be long before I don't have to leave ever again, I remember that I'm loved (that I really am - after that not-apology that meant the damn world to me, I can always make myself remember that so long as I hold on to the memory), I remember that no matter how far I have to go, I'll always come back. That one day in the not-so-distant future we'll have a big house and a nice car and a pool with a shark in it and no matter how fucked up we are now, we can always get better. And I guess a million therapist stories and stupid jobs and endless caffeine abuse later, we'll still be together, and we'll still want to be together, and that's really all I want.
So, I guess I won't be so scared to get on that plane after all. Not this time.