March 26th.

I'm craving coffee and waking up in someone else's bed.

Listening to: Only Ones Who Know - Arctic Monkeys
Mood: Refer to this blog's title. No, not the date, you idiot.

It's been a lonely week. Filled with people.
Yeah, don't expect me to be making much sense this time of night. My sleep patterns are a bit fucked as of late. I'd like to blame the meds, but that would be taking the easy way out, I think. And I'm too used to taking the easy way out. Let's mix things up, shall we?

I haven't told anyone directly, nor will I directly talk about it due to the fact that it screws with my head too much (Oh, we don't want that now, do we, we want to keep that 'positive attitude' the psych keeps harping on about without actually doing anything to help) but my screwed up dreams are coming back.
But Ree, you might say, aren't you always having screwed up dreams? To which I would quietly chortle, take a sip of my vodka, then another, then a gulp, and reply "Yes. But not always the same ones. And some affect me more than others. Haven't you listened to anything I've been telling you, silly child?" (with the air of a worldly and most likely alcoholic middle-aged aunt wearing a pantsuit and sporting long, red talons) I would probably close my eyes, then, and lean back in my chair as you continued to judge me, and drain my drink a little bit more.

On a completely unrelated note, I miss booze.

Back to the point.
I get the feeling that people don't take my frequent nightmare-ing seriously, and I can understand. To someone who hasn't been through this kind of thing, it could easily be misconstrued as an attention-seeking effort.

In fact, to be honest, I haven't been telling anyone the full story of late, because I'm sick of people assuming it's nothing, it's a ruse, Ree just wants cuddles and sympathy again.
Not that I don't like cuddles and sympathy. They're always good. So is tea. And decent conversation.
But I digress.
What's the point of divulging my worries in people if I'm just going to get shunned?
(And I do realise there will be a few people reading this thinking "Wait...She's going EASY on us?" And I totally understand. Even at my most restrained, I whinge a lot.)

I miss certain people that I haven't missed for a while. It's strange.
I wonder if it's been enough time yet.

How long does it really take for emotional wounds to heal?
For people to change?
Do people change?
If anyone can't, it's me. And I hate that fact about myself.
Much like I hate most other things. But hey. I almost sound like I'm looking for cuddles and sympathy again.

I might blog again tomorrow. I might not. I might blog again in three hours, who knows.

This is probably one of the stranger moods I've been in.

Adieu.