After the Death Knell
By Jolinar@Carter
Dear Diary,
It has been an awful few days. I say that a lot, I know that. But it's really true. I spent hours running around on a planet, scared shitless.
I really thought I was going to die.
I could barely stand, near the end. Never mind run from him...it.
I had a head wound and a horrendous leg wound too. If it hadn't been for Teal'C and Jack...seems like they're always saving my ass these days. I feel like a burden.
Today, the alliance fell apart. My father walked out of my life once again. He's so good at it, it's what he does best.
The first time was when I was 15 and my mother died. He didn't leave physically – he didn't walk out of the door. He just left emotionally and mentally, at the time when I needed him most.
And again, when he had cancer.
He's gone now, and I might never see him again. I needed him at 15, I needed him at 29, and I still need him at 35.
I just need him.
I have Pete, some of the time.
I have SG-1, all of the time, but I hate loading up their already troubled minds with insignificant feelings of my own.
I love my dad, always have. And I've always hated how he leaves.
This war is more than our relationship, I understand that, I accept it. It will eventually claim our lives. But knowing that doesn't stop me feeling alone.
I'm sitting here, now, in the infirmary. Safe, clean and warm. But I am in incredible pain, and I'm a mess.
I'm such a mess.
But I won't tell.
I won't tell them.
I can't.
Never could ask for help.
Feedback welcomed, no flames please. I appreciate help in improving my writing, but flames are not called for.
By Jolinar@Carter
Dear Diary,
It has been an awful few days. I say that a lot, I know that. But it's really true. I spent hours running around on a planet, scared shitless.
I really thought I was going to die.
I could barely stand, near the end. Never mind run from him...it.
I had a head wound and a horrendous leg wound too. If it hadn't been for Teal'C and Jack...seems like they're always saving my ass these days. I feel like a burden.
Today, the alliance fell apart. My father walked out of my life once again. He's so good at it, it's what he does best.
The first time was when I was 15 and my mother died. He didn't leave physically – he didn't walk out of the door. He just left emotionally and mentally, at the time when I needed him most.
And again, when he had cancer.
He's gone now, and I might never see him again. I needed him at 15, I needed him at 29, and I still need him at 35.
I just need him.
I have Pete, some of the time.
I have SG-1, all of the time, but I hate loading up their already troubled minds with insignificant feelings of my own.
I love my dad, always have. And I've always hated how he leaves.
This war is more than our relationship, I understand that, I accept it. It will eventually claim our lives. But knowing that doesn't stop me feeling alone.
I'm sitting here, now, in the infirmary. Safe, clean and warm. But I am in incredible pain, and I'm a mess.
I'm such a mess.
But I won't tell.
I won't tell them.
I can't.
Never could ask for help.
Feedback welcomed, no flames please. I appreciate help in improving my writing, but flames are not called for.