Tuesday. 13 April 2010.

Happy Birthday, Frankie~~~~~

And that's about the most cheerful thing about this morning. My back's been killing me all night, making it hard to do the 'roll while staying in place' thing that I normally do whilst sleeping, which means that I woke up every time I tried to do it, glanced at the clock, wondered why the hell I was awake enough to check for texts, and then pass out again. I got about nine and a half hours of sleep. It's strange, being well-rested. For all Charles' insistence on his being a negative influence on me... I'm taking better care of myself XD

We had to close the windows for the first time in a week, because both Frankie and I were shivering this morning. Thank you, Ohio, for proving that in the space of a week you can give us all four seasons. We appreciate it. v.v Plus it's dark and gloomy outside, which means I'm fighting an uphill battle with doom and gloom. But it's not the same doom and gloom as last night, thank God. It's just a lack of complete optimism and a steady ticking of thoughts as opposed to the WHHHEEEEEEEEE I CAN FEEL EMOTIONS thing it was last night.

Which brings me to my entire point for taking up the keyboard. I keep looking at Charles' latest blog post. It makes me wonder how expressing my own emotions is ever worth it, or why the hell I should continue to do so when it's causing this much agony. I'd rather take the pain on myself than let things continue like this. It's cruelty to chain Charles in place like this, and yet I can loose him no more than he can me; I could hide my own pain, but he draws me out of the walls I have built as surely as a doctor would draw venom.

I want to protest that I'm not in that much pain, but that would be lying, and he wouldn't believe me for a moment, because he's seen some of the agony. I've already made the mistake of sorts, letting him see everything, telling him things even against what I think is wise, merely because he asked. I don't think I could lie to him any more than I could lie to God. Is that good? It feels awful in this situation.

Reading this probably won't do anything for him, either. So I'm just digging myself a deeper and deeper hole and wondering why I'm not seeing the daylight through the top yet. I'm smart, what are you talking about? But my thoughts are focusing too much on myself.

Alright. Guesses about my parents.

Mom has a tendency to need time to adjust to things, but once adjusted, is fine. I honestly think that she might be almost kind of sort of alright with things, but Pa is an unknown factor. I don't know how well he responds to things like this, but I have the impression that he's getting more involved emotionally with everything that involves Megs and I, and he's one of those guys who decide something and then don't sway no matter how much evidence is presented otherwise. Mom and Pa communicate very well. Which means that either Mom is swaying him, or Pa is swaying her. I pray it's not the latter, but my gut feeling says it is. Becoming independent won't do anything more than affirm that I'm like his own children, who just up and left with no explanation, which will hurt him a hell of a lot and tighten their grip on Megs - well, becoming independent in the sense that I avoid all contact with them. I'm trying not to do that, as tempting as it is.

If it's the former, I just have to start giving more evidence. Gently nudging, drawing them forward, calm and confident and loving. They'll follow my lead; I know mom does, whether she realizes it or not. That's best expressed when I'm driving - if I'm confident behind the wheel, and calm, and collected, she's relaxed and bubbling happily in the passenger's seat. It makes me happy that Charles was able to draw on Scripture to back himself and myself up. It's another step towards confidence that I, quite frankly, needed. Another piece of armor.

I feel like I'm preparing myself to do battle against the world. Strapping on the greaves, belting the sword around my waist, all the while looking up, planning my moves, bracing my mind to face the enemy. Charles really shouldn't have given me the idea of me being the sword to his shield. I take the role of sword very, very seriously. Especially when I'm defending something so important as this.

Another thought - Mom and Pa are probably going to make me feel the fool for making such a big deal of all this, or approaching it from the angle I'm coming from. I need to note, here and now, why this opinion is wrong. One, they gave me absolutely nothing with which to form a different point of approach. Two, the hell this isn't important. You say it's not, you've got a paper bag over your head the size of Mississippi. Three, yes, they have been hurting me. A lot. Not just with this. With past things, as well. Years and years and years of small pains that have finally manifested themselves into something I can actually look at, hold, face. Something worth fighting for. Because I'm not just fighting for myself. I'm fighting for Charles. I'm standing firm for the both of us and what we have and the hope of what's to come.

The pain is inconsequential. A war cannot be won without its losses; else-wise, there was no battle. It is a passing thing, the pain. It comes and it goes, but the thing I fight for stays as a banner, a rallying point, standing tall amidst the gunsmoke and clamor of battle.

I have class in twenty minutes. Time to get dressed, brush random things, and run. Woosh!