Dear Journal, or writing pad, whatever you want to call yourself. They have me doing this as part of my 'therapy', if that's what you want to call that as well. They said it would help me through my 'problems'. Still, I don't see the point. I mean if I wanted to sort through these mountains of emotions that have been building up inside of me for about eight or so months that was right before Groo left, I would spill them mainly in the direction of Angel.
Cordelia threw the pen back down on the desk in defeat and leaned back in the swiveling chair. She was tired of writing her feelings down. It was pointless, she thought. The feelings didn't go away, they stayed bottled up inside and absorbed a little bit more of her heart. She looked back down at her half of a journal entry. Angel. It was funny how everything that she wrote got turned back to him. He hadn't forced her to go to this therapy, only mentioned it about a quarter of a gazillion times, and then he had to go and get Gretchen. She thought that the idea of at least one therapy session would be good, get some stuff that had been eating at her off of her chest. Although the had gotten some things off of her chest, like Gretchen had predicted, she's rather be in the basement with Angel, playing with swords and punching the lights out of the fake dummy. That would be more helpful then writing in some stupid journal. It was eleven o'clock according to her watch and as much as she wanted to get up and go to bed like Fred & Lorne had done about an hour ago, she wanted to wait for Angel. She had had a vision earlier in the day telling Angel of a girl who needed to be slapped back into reality. She was going to sacrifice herself for something that wasn't even possible.
The Powers were sending her weird visions lately. The one of the girl, then there was on of a demon that they had fought and presumably killed before and to top it all off, that gang had gone to into a strip club to take down the hottest male stripper that Cordelia or Fred had ever seen. Well, know that she thought about it, they weren't really that weird, were they? Just every day normalcy here at Angel Investigations. Turning back to her journal entry, she picked up the pen again and pressed it to the paper, but nothing was coming out until she caught eye of the picture sitting right in front of her.
Okay, I'm back. I don't know for how long though. I still think this is pointless. What am I doing again? Oh yea, telling a book about my feelings. Well, instead of doing that I'm going to introduce you to my family. First there's me and well, you know about me. Then there's Wesley, the big brother figure. He used to be this clumsy ex-watcher, rogue demon hunter guy. Now, he's the boss of our little detective agency and if I don't say so myself, he's doing a mighty fine job at it. Did I just say mighty fine? I'm so going soft and that's not right. Anyhow, Wesley: best guy in the whole world; love him to death. On quiet days, and that's a lot, we have these talks. Not about anything in particular, but whatever is on our minds. Yesterday it was oddly enough, about the color black and how much of it Angel actually wears. I checked his closet out the other day and was shocked to find that he actually does own a light colored shirt. Of course, he would never admit to it or wear it, but it's fun to know that it's there, just so I can tease him about it. Oh, then there's Lorne. He's not what you might imagine, being green with horns and all. He's actually sweeter than Wesley, if you can imagine that. And he's always humming a tune, whether it be a new pop hit by the latest pop princess or one of the great standards by Duke Ellington or Glenn Miller. Although I have to admit, his edition of Singing in the Rain is pretty entertaining. I could go on and on about Lorne, but that would take up a whole new journal, maybe two the way I write and correct myself in every other line. Let's move on to Gunn. Charles Gunn. The LA street kid that grew up fighting demons all his life. A little secret: he may act all cool and confident on the outside, but on the inside he's just as protective as the next demon-killing guy. He's funny too. Always has some wise crack at the end of one of Wesley's never ending speeches about an apocalypse or new demon that's resurfacing. Plus, he's easy on the eyes and that smile, (pause for effect) that smile, just like mine, could melt a million chocolate bars. He's like another big brother too, well at least to me he is. To Fred though, he's just another one of her crushes. She seems to crush easily, now that I think about it. First it was Angel, then him and at the same time she's having the same feelings for Wesley. Lorne and I are safe for now, you never know what that girl is going to say or think of next. She's a little shy of the crazy label but, as we all say every day, she's Fred. Somehow, rescuing her from Pylea doesn't seem like it was a bad idea after all...plus, she kind of grows on you. And I like that. And having another girl, scratch that, woman around here isn't all that bad. We're starting to tip the scale some too, all we have to do is find another demon-fighting girl who'll work for a vampire with a soul, excluding the B-girl (Buffy) and other F-girl (Faith), who is currently serving time in the state prison for murder. Yea, we attract the sane ones alright. And for all of you who didn't get that, it was supposed to be sarcastic. Okay, now I'm kind of getting tired, not only from the semi-busy day we had, but from waiting on Angel and from writing in this stupid journal. If, and I stress the if, I have time tomorrow, I'll tell you about my long lost grandmother and if (again with the ifs) time prevails, maybe I'll finally talk about Angel, my best friend Angel. Then the next day, maybe I'll try Angel, the boyfriend?