03.09.1973
Yeah. I knew the word counts for the last two weeks have been under. I didn't want to risk another freaking atta-boy.
10.09.1973
Seriously? I can't believe that you made me do two sessions last week! You even waited out the absolute silence. I have to give you points for that. Ok, compromise. I'll talk about real stuff, but not the stuff you want to talk about. Ok? I'm just not up for giving you the gory details about my parent's death, and I think it's pretty twisted that you would ask.
But I'll make word count from now on, like a dutiful little crazy kid. Therapy homework. I guess I deserve it since I never get actual homework.
You know what? I will respond to one of your "therapy questions". "Do I want to get better?"
No.
"Why not?" you would ask if you were here right now.
Well, because your version of getting better is being happy. And that's screwed up, because sadness is a perfectly valid human emotion. Modern society may have banished tragedy from the face of the Earth, but it used to be as valid an art form as comedy.
More than that. I don't want to be happy, because there is no-one left to grieve my parents if I stop. They deserve someone to grieve them.
I know you'll tell me that I deserve things too. That I deserve to be happy. But I just think about those pictures after they killed President Kennedy. All those people grieving. That's the kind of grief that my parents deserve.
Halfway. And yes, I'm counting these as words, because they are feeling, too. You keep telling me that my feelings are valid. So are my feelings that psychology is crap valid too?
You wanted me to tell you why my foster family is passing me off. I think that you should ask them. But I've got hundreds of words to go, so here it is.
They said they don't feel a connection with me. They don't feel a bond. I don't bond with people. Sometimes I think it's still the language barrier. I mean, I speak English well enough that most people don't know it's not my native tongue. But there are still a lot of words that I don't know. I had to look up "bond" when they used it, and I still don't get what this has to do with money that gets you out of jail. It's partly, I think, because people are temporary. I hold them at arm's distance, because I don't want it to hurt when they leave. Sometimes, though, mostly when I wake from a nightmare in the middle of the night, I think it's possible that I am incapable of making a connection with any other human, that there is some part of me that is eternally broken. Maybe all the rest of my life I will be nothing but a ghost walking through life. It scares me more than you will ever know.
I know you're going to ask what the nightmares are about. Well, mostly they are about Egyptian gods devouring my soul, because it weighs more than a feather.
There are your 500 words.
17.09.1973
First of all, I don't think it counts when your psychologist says they've made a connection with you. You're paid to do that. Yes, I do know I'm quite introspective for a kid, because I'm not a kid. I'm a short adult. The sooner you accept that, the better off you'll be.
To your question about 'do I blame myself for my parents' deaths'… well, yeah… I do. So I guess you are going to get the bloody story that you wanted at last.
We were in a museum, I saw that column start to quaver, and I tried to warn them. But I wasn't convincing enough. So maybe this whole 'don't connect to humans' thing started before the accident. If they'd had a normal son, a convincing son, a believable son, a lovable son, maybe they would still be alive.
How do I feel about my new foster parents? Nothing. I know you said that numbness is normal after grief, but when does it end? When am I going to start feeling anything besides anger and despair? Not that I deserve to feel anything else. See, I can't even stay loyal to my parents in longing to be well.
You'd say that's a good thing. That my parents want me to be happy.
You know what? I'm never going to hit 500 words, so book the second session, Dr. Moon, and we'll have a staring contest.
After this Daniel takes a lot of notes. It's mostly about documentaries he caught on PBS, or articles in National Geographic or Journal of Anthropology that he read in the Public Library. The analysis is acute. The notes are taken in Ancient Egyptian. I've spared you all that drivel, and we'll skip to young Daniel's first crush.
-0-
Jack Joke of the week:
How many Tok'ra does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Infinity, because they are freaking useless.
