I didn't want to post till I could do it without crying. Something shifted in my brain last night and I'm like... I'm not okay. I am so very not okay. But I've managed to put most of it over to one side where it's not going to keep making me cry. At least today ( Read more... )

...Who remembers my enormous fit of trembling, weeping angst at the thought of Spike turning six years old? How I spent the entire week of his birthday bursting into tears every time I looked at him, oppressed and haunted and terrorised by the simple fact that he may not, after all, be as immortal as he thinks he is ( Read more... )

We were walking; and Spike spotted a stick on the ground and decided to play with it. This happens a thousand times a day. It was a small one; about pencil-width and twice as long. He pounced on it, bounced up and down and chomped it into pieces. So far, so normal ( Read more... )

I was born lucky, you know. I started out with good genes, good health and a sharp mind; I was born into a loving, stable family intelligent enough to care about education, wealthy enough to pay a fortune for it and sensitive enough to try and tailor it to my needs. I've had every fucking advantage; I've got no excuse whatever for the world not ( Read more... )