Care
Show: Sherlock (obviously :P)
Title: Care
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, depressed, addiction (are they genres??)
Spoilers: I don’t have a bloody clue people :D
Warnings: hints at drug-use and addictions
Summary: It is hard, to resist the urge, sometimes it comes upon me for the most inconsequential thing...
A/N: I’m depressed right now... and my own vice is not this, it’s less... damaging?? And on another note; Avril Lavigne’s Anything But Ordinary is really useful when writing about Sherlock’s drug-use :D
Enjoy
Kasey
CARE
Why should I care about them? They’re nothing, inconsequential and what they say and do shouldn’t affect me so; yet it does and I truly don’t understand why. I always thought that I didn’t feel but apparently that’s an incorrect assumption from me; apparently I do feel and I feel quite a lot. Essentially, they hurt me and I can’t fight back, I don’t know what to say but I wish I could scream and shout out up to the high heavens in any and all tongues of fickle man because no-one listens.
No-one cares... no-one sees and it’s not because I don’t let them see, it’s because they’re too blind, too thick, too stupid... fools... every last one of them. I can’t be part of them; I can’t be classed as being the same when I’m completely different. I don’t feel like they do, I know what to do with emotions, with these chemical reactions in my brain to external stimuli. I just don’t know. And no-one is smart enough to see that!
Why should I care? Why shouldn’t I? Why should I do anything? Why shouldn’t I? It’s always pro’s and con’s isn’t it really? Life’s full of it; best course of action vs. the worst, good vs. the bad, right vs. wrong. It’s all pro and con. So what are my pro’s and con’s I wonder? I don’t think I want to know because that would mean that I’m generalising and labelling and conforming myself to the mediocre views of society and I don’t care anymore.
I really don’t care.
It is hard, to resist the urge, sometimes it comes upon me for the most inconsequential thing; a smell, a word, a look, a memory. But when it arrives in full force it is hard, it is ever so hard to resist. I have to avoid it, argue with myself, yank and pull every scrap of reason that I have within me to the fore just so I can temper the urge and find something to pacify, though nothing really does pacify, it. A body, a new murder, a puzzle, a verbal-spat. Anything! Anything to stop my mind from losing to instinct and need...
I want to shut it out sometimes, to try and get rid of it completely but you never can; you do it once and you want it a second time and a third and so on. Sometimes you kid yourself and say that it’s because you need to feel, or because you need to stop thinking. But they’re just excuses; they always are and always will be. You either want to do it or you don’t, there’s no excuse for your own weakness.
For me it was boredom, I wanted to do something to stop me being bored, for others it might be to be rid of their pain, their anger, their hurt and loneliness for a while; but it is ultimately up to you to choose whether or not to continue. Whatever vice you have isn’t to blame; it’s addictive, of course it’s addictive it’s bloody supposed to be! You’re to blame, your will power is to blame, your own stupidity is to blame. No-one else. No-one else but you...
That’s John he’s back from the shops carting the usual shopping and normally I wouldn’t bother myself with such mundane things but he’s hidden my science-kit and the skull’s being held for ransom again and I need something to distract me; something to do to stop this... need, this stupid, illogical, desperate need for oblivion and clarity mixed together like a butterfly and chaos theory. I need some sort of vice and right now helping John with the shopping will have to suffice; it’s not like he’s an angel either, his vice is perhaps more dangerous than mine. Adrenalin, the need for it, that’s his addiction and I think it’ll get him killed one day; but he’s not going to give it up, not when I don’t want him to walk away and have a normal life...
So it’s two-by-two we go, through life.... two-by-two.
Title: Care
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, depressed, addiction (are they genres??)
Spoilers: I don’t have a bloody clue people :D
Warnings: hints at drug-use and addictions
Summary: It is hard, to resist the urge, sometimes it comes upon me for the most inconsequential thing...
A/N: I’m depressed right now... and my own vice is not this, it’s less... damaging?? And on another note; Avril Lavigne’s Anything But Ordinary is really useful when writing about Sherlock’s drug-use :D
Enjoy
Kasey
CARE
Why should I care about them? They’re nothing, inconsequential and what they say and do shouldn’t affect me so; yet it does and I truly don’t understand why. I always thought that I didn’t feel but apparently that’s an incorrect assumption from me; apparently I do feel and I feel quite a lot. Essentially, they hurt me and I can’t fight back, I don’t know what to say but I wish I could scream and shout out up to the high heavens in any and all tongues of fickle man because no-one listens.
No-one cares... no-one sees and it’s not because I don’t let them see, it’s because they’re too blind, too thick, too stupid... fools... every last one of them. I can’t be part of them; I can’t be classed as being the same when I’m completely different. I don’t feel like they do, I know what to do with emotions, with these chemical reactions in my brain to external stimuli. I just don’t know. And no-one is smart enough to see that!
Why should I care? Why shouldn’t I? Why should I do anything? Why shouldn’t I? It’s always pro’s and con’s isn’t it really? Life’s full of it; best course of action vs. the worst, good vs. the bad, right vs. wrong. It’s all pro and con. So what are my pro’s and con’s I wonder? I don’t think I want to know because that would mean that I’m generalising and labelling and conforming myself to the mediocre views of society and I don’t care anymore.
I really don’t care.
It is hard, to resist the urge, sometimes it comes upon me for the most inconsequential thing; a smell, a word, a look, a memory. But when it arrives in full force it is hard, it is ever so hard to resist. I have to avoid it, argue with myself, yank and pull every scrap of reason that I have within me to the fore just so I can temper the urge and find something to pacify, though nothing really does pacify, it. A body, a new murder, a puzzle, a verbal-spat. Anything! Anything to stop my mind from losing to instinct and need...
I want to shut it out sometimes, to try and get rid of it completely but you never can; you do it once and you want it a second time and a third and so on. Sometimes you kid yourself and say that it’s because you need to feel, or because you need to stop thinking. But they’re just excuses; they always are and always will be. You either want to do it or you don’t, there’s no excuse for your own weakness.
For me it was boredom, I wanted to do something to stop me being bored, for others it might be to be rid of their pain, their anger, their hurt and loneliness for a while; but it is ultimately up to you to choose whether or not to continue. Whatever vice you have isn’t to blame; it’s addictive, of course it’s addictive it’s bloody supposed to be! You’re to blame, your will power is to blame, your own stupidity is to blame. No-one else. No-one else but you...
That’s John he’s back from the shops carting the usual shopping and normally I wouldn’t bother myself with such mundane things but he’s hidden my science-kit and the skull’s being held for ransom again and I need something to distract me; something to do to stop this... need, this stupid, illogical, desperate need for oblivion and clarity mixed together like a butterfly and chaos theory. I need some sort of vice and right now helping John with the shopping will have to suffice; it’s not like he’s an angel either, his vice is perhaps more dangerous than mine. Adrenalin, the need for it, that’s his addiction and I think it’ll get him killed one day; but he’s not going to give it up, not when I don’t want him to walk away and have a normal life...
So it’s two-by-two we go, through life.... two-by-two.