Okay, first thing I gotta say here…I read a really awesome story called Dungeons of the Mind from Chess that gave me a really obnoxious plotbunny (I love that word, dammit) that I couldn't shake so since I'm writing this mainly for my own amusement (it'd be better if I wasn't) I put it in and changed it somewhat but I feel really bad and I really like that story and this is the coolest sentence I've ever written EVER and here's the link: Word. This next entry is rambling and probably should have been spilt up into two entries but, hey, you know what? I don't care enough. Oh, and yeah, there was an itty-bitty mistake in the last chapter that I didn't mean to make but actually worked out okay. I fixed it in this chapter…did you catch it? If you did, you need a hobby. Like stamp collecting. Or butterfly collecting. Or Playboy collecting. Different strokes for different folks, man.
Well, hm, let's see...I'm actually lucid for once...yes, they haven't been trying to spell me up because I read my last entry and I didn't want to think like that so I yelled at them until they gave up. Would anyone want to be like that? I'm still in Mungo's...bastards STILL think I'm going to kill myself, they don't understand that it was a one time thing. It was a nervous breakdown! Honestly, do they think I'm going to have another one any time soon? Well, yes, they probably do. I've been here for three days now, and they won 't let me go back to Hogwarts. According to Minerva, the students all think I got attacked in the Forbidden Forest. She's probably lying, they may be stupid but they're not that stupid. I don't resent that she's working, but...how can she? If anything ever happened to her...oh, god, I don't want to think about it. It's terrifying. I love her so much...but do I count on her more than I love her? It's like every time I do something completely stupid I expect her to come and save me. What if she couldn't? Nobody's told me yet who found me...oh, god, let's pray it was Minerva and not Dumbledore or someone. If it was...ugh, I don't know. I'm so confused, I know I'm not making any sense. I can see why they want to sedate me. Hell, if I wasn't me I'd want to sedate me. Honestly, I think I damaged a few brain cells with that nervous breakdown thing. Or maybe the spells haven't fully worn off yet. At any rate, I'm not thinking clearly. Minerva said she felt like a failure. Well, more like sobbed it. I wanted to be a good boyfriend, a normal boyfriend, a strong and emotionally well put together boyfriend and comfort her and kiss her and tell her that it's all right but I couldn't so I just sat there like the real failure that I am and I couldn't do anything except stare straight ahead because I was sedated out of my mind. I You'd think I would have liked the spells...I mean, I love getting drunk...but, no, I don't love it it's just preferable when you're an ALCOHOLIC. I guess it's just that with alcohol I have the illusion of control...ugh, ugh, ugh, I don't know. I'm just shocked that I was insane enough to go off and stab myself with a quill TWICE and then just sit there while I bled out. At least I think that's how it went, especially when you consider that I had holes in my arm and leg. The leg didn't work out very well, or it must not have, so I suppose I moved on to the arm. I must have stabbed very hard....my quill was relatively sharp but it's wasn't a razor or anything. Maybe I'm more messed up than I thought. Actually, I know I am...see, I've kind of been in denial about this...um...I saw something once. I don't really want to talk about it. It was a while back, a couple years ago. I don't want to talk about it. But I should...it was when I was talking to Dumbledore. He was telling me about the Mirror of Erised and I was only half listening but then he got called away and I was all, hey, Severus, maybe you'll be happier if you take a look and see what you really want. At that point, I didn't know what I wanted from life...oh, right, and I was an idiot. Albus was stashing it in his supply closet—so inventive—and I took a look. I was only looking for a nanosecond but I still knew it all once I saw it. Yes, I was dead. Though some giant celestial mix-up, I'd made it to heaven. I looked so healthy, and happy, and my mother was standing there looking pretty similar to me, and there was also a woman whose face I didn't see. I started sobbing. Dumbledore came back—and we don't need to go into what happened after that. I'm crying just thinking about it...hope that shrink doesn't come back in here and see me sobbing over my diary like a twelve year old girl. His name is Halvard, not sure if that's first or last but it really doesn't matter. He's all right. Yes, he did read my ENTIRE JOURNAL. It's not like he really had a choice, but it still bothers me. He's better than the last one, but...I still don't want a shrink! I know full well that I need one, but...it doesn't mean I want one. He started suggesting potions for me to try—I told him that I was a Potions master and that there wasn't an existing potion that could help me because I've tried every single one of them. He told me that it figured that that was probably the case and that he was just covering the whole field, but I'm sure he was saving face. It's so disappointing to try potion after potion that are supposed to make you feel better and have none of them work—Cheering Charms just don't work on me, Hope Draught makes me really sick, and Light Serum is a joke. I've tried to make my own, and I just ended up...well, very ill. Let's not go there. I think I was going to say something else, but…god, I'm tired. I need some potions and I need them promptly.