» two complaints against House
[private journal entry :: unhackable unless you break into her home & steal her little brown book]
I've gone mad.
I have an apartment now. It's a nice little place. Rooms are surprisingly easy to come by. Maybe that's another sign this whole thing is just a dream. I don't care where you are -- rooms should NOT be this easy to come by.
But I've got one. I even interviewed for a job today at the local hospital. I should hear back from them within the week.
And it's just...as whiny as it sounds, it's just NOT FAIR. You spend years working your ass off, building your resume, making connections, moving your way up the ladder. You FINALLY get to a point where you can say: "This is it. I can call myself a success now" and WHOOSH! You're whisked away to some crazy alternate dimension and have to start all over again.
I have to be hallucinating. I must be hallucinating. Either that or I'm going crazy. The ticking...it's like it's under my skin. I could rip my hair out. Is this what life is going to be like? Fighting off clock-induced madness while trying to rebuild some semblance of a life?
At least House-- At least there are-- At least--
[public]
Is that what curses are usually like? A pandemic of insincere apologies? I was under the impression they'd be a lot more interesting.
[ooc: sob backdated to Monday evening because I FAIL. Strikes scribbled out VEHEMENTLY.]
I've gone mad.
I have an apartment now. It's a nice little place. Rooms are surprisingly easy to come by. Maybe that's another sign this whole thing is just a dream. I don't care where you are -- rooms should NOT be this easy to come by.
But I've got one. I even interviewed for a job today at the local hospital. I should hear back from them within the week.
And it's just...as whiny as it sounds, it's just NOT FAIR. You spend years working your ass off, building your resume, making connections, moving your way up the ladder. You FINALLY get to a point where you can say: "This is it. I can call myself a success now" and WHOOSH! You're whisked away to some crazy alternate dimension and have to start all over again.
I have to be hallucinating. I must be hallucinating. Either that or I'm going crazy. The ticking...it's like it's under my skin. I could rip my hair out. Is this what life is going to be like? Fighting off clock-induced madness while trying to rebuild some semblance of a life?
At least House-- At least there are-- At least--
[public]
Is that what curses are usually like? A pandemic of insincere apologies? I was under the impression they'd be a lot more interesting.
[ooc: sob backdated to Monday evening because I FAIL. Strikes scribbled out VEHEMENTLY.]