Time for some reviewer thank-yous!!! Thank you Khalaris—yeah, I know it's wrong, but I like my version better, dammit! Come on, do you really want some creepy mommy-issues Demi Moore thing going on? No! Well, I sure as hell don't. That's creeeeeeeepy. Thank you mg08—hope you didn't hurt yourself! If my readers keep falling out of chairs I might get sued. And share a cell with Martha Stewart. She can teach me how to crochet! Thank you Sally—people from other countries are so damn nice! Okay, let me tell you the story about these two chapters...it was 12:30 AM. I was totally hopped up on caffeine. Needless to say, that's a potent combination. These next two went in a really weird direction...but it's a good one. Oh, and sorry about the swearing...there's really no other way I could have done that, you'll see what I mean. It's not that bad. And it probably won't happen again like this. They may both be weird chapters, but they're very well written in my own personal opinion which means nothing. I'll shut up now...read on, brave fanfic lovers, read on.
Well, that was such a miserable and completely idiotic experience that I really don't want to go through it. I suppose I'm just being an oppositional drunk. Oh well. I don't think I'll be going back, honestly. It was pointless...oh, and Minerva's about ready to spit fire from her nostrils like a Welsh Green. Even though she won't admit it...I can tell when people are angry, you'd think I would've learned it by now. She's trying her damnest to hide it and be all supportive. I don't know why I don't want to write about the shrink, maybe because the moron I was talking to knew NOTHING I swear to God. I don't want to go through it...no. How do people like that get jobs? If I was that stupid, I would have killed myself a long time ago. What was worse than his being stupid, though...he just didn't care. I mean, I'm a sexually abused clinically depressed late-stage alcoholic here! If there's anything you should care about, especially when you're a PSYCHIATRIST...ugh. Why doesn't anything work out right? Even when things work out, they don't...work out right. I get a job after being a Death Eater—it's at this hellhole. I get Minerva—I keep messing up. I finally get some revenge on Potter—turns out that my rampant drunkardness is a topic of conversation among the little bastards. Is drunkardness a word? Could be. It's not the kind of thing you learn in elementary grammar. Well, you know what, this is MY stupid journal and in the stupid little world of MY stupid journal it is a word. You know, I'm angry right now, furious to be exact, and my spelling's still impeccable and I'm using words like impeccable. God! Have I pushed back my emotions so far inside that I can't get them out even when I try? I don't know. I don't know anything. Shit shit shit shit shit shit my head hurts.....I feel like stabbing this quill into my arm. I don't think I'd scream...it's not like I have the arm strength to puncture any major arteries and oh my god I'm contemplating self-mutilation and I can't write coherantly and I spelled that wrong and I'm hyperventilating oh god. Someone needs to help me but I don't think I can get any more help because Ive gone through all the motions. Minervas spent and Im spent and I CANT WRITE I forgot the english language. Shit shit shit. Shit shit shit shit................
I believe that's known as a nervous breakdown. Go figure. I get one after seeing a shrink. Right now, I'm at St. Mungo's. To make a long story short, I actually did try to stab myself with the quill. So melodramatic. And I bled, melodramatically, and I kind of couldn't get it together and I kind of passed out. They put a couple spells on me when I got here—I'm really calm but my head feels strange. Minerva went to go teach a few classes because otherwise she wouldn't be able to keep it together. I told her that was okay. She's been crying...but I'm okay now...and actually I'm a little hungry. My arm doesn't hurt, but it didn't really hurt then either. It did and it didn't. Heh, I'm so out of it right now, I don't know what I'm talking about. They brought a shrink in who seemed all right...I think he read my journal, which is rather annoying...it probably scared the crap out him, poor bastard. At least he gave it back. I can't leave the room...I'm on suicide watch, you see, and they don't want me sneaking out and trying to jump out any windows or anything. There's one in my room, but it doesn't open and it doesn't show anything interesting. Nurses come in sometimes, but otherwise there's really nothing to do. I just think and write. I think about this tree in my backyard from when I was a kid...I'd always try to climb it, but I was a wimpy kid and it was very tall and I never got very far. But once, just once I got it, and I sat up in the branches for what seemed like hours. I felt like I could have stayed there forever. But my mother came out and she freaked out and started crying. She was drunk. Glenn came out and held her tight and asked me to come down so nicely, so damn nicely it hurt. My mother was still crying, and I couldn't watch him comfort her like that for any longer so I started to crawl down and I accidentally-on-purpose fell and hurt my ankle and my mom started freaking out even more and her and Glenn came over and started carrying me inside and he didn't try to do anything that night and it was one of the best days I'd ever had. Glenn sent someone to chop down the tree the very next day and that was the end of that but for one triumphant moment I'd made it and managed to climb that tree and I'd actually kept Glenn from coming to me that night. There's a tree outside my window, but it's tiny and ugly and the window doesn't open. Minerva should be back soon...she said she'd bring me stew. Stew's very good for you. All of the vitamins and nutrients make you healthy again, and I certainly want to be healthy again because right now I'm pretty damn sure that I'm not healthy. Well, isn't that obvious...you are at a hospital, Severus. You know, when I first woke up, I asked for a beer and all the nurses gave me odd looks and I remembered that I'm not drinking anymore. I had completely forgotten about that...I may have shoved a sharp quill in my arm, but at least I didn't drink. The one thing that really irks me is that I keep saying that I wasn't trying to kill myself and they don't believe me. Even Minerva doesn't. If I had really been trying to kill myself, I would have stabbed myself in the heart and not the damn thigh. I wasn't trying to kill myself...I just freaked out and didn't really know what I was doing. I'm shivering...but I'm not cold. That's strange. Maybe I should call one of the nurses. It's their damn job to make sure I'm all good, right? Exactly. I'm going to put this journal down...now.