.:Dreams and Swords:.

The Thrill Is Gone

Today was definitely one of those day, and I am glad to be back home.

The morning took a big turn the moment I checked out of the hotel. Notably, I got into a fight with my father in front of my sisters and little brother, which was not the way I wanted to end things with them. The fight was an extension of something entirely not the center of the emotions, but the overflow came my way, and after a bad night sleeping I didn't act in the best of ways. Luckily, the heavy emotional turmoil didn't last the entire trip although I ended up down a drink at lunch (Note To Self: never have alcohol with a messed up stomach).

The rest of the trip back was on much better terms, and we ended up back where we began. One thing I notice about people I love is there comfortable laying out their feelings on me. When I was little this was somewhat disturbing as I had no place to describe what was happening. As I got older I realized that people unloaded their problems on me because I didn't hold it against them, and usually was able to work out what was really bothering them. I don't necessarily enjoy this aspect of relationships, but find that before I can put the brakes on the compulsion, the troubled person has already begun to burst. At that point all that is left is to batten down the hatches and weather the storm.

I was dead on my feet the moment I got home. I logged on then past out for a couple of hours. Interactions like these usually have me absorbing whatever the person is feeling, working it out, and sending it back - if that makes any sense. It damn process is draining as all hell. The dreams after weren't as joyful as I could have wanted, but that seems to be the norm nowadays. Where is a good fluffy bunny dream when you need one?

The one thing about leaving for more than a couple of days is that coming home feels so different. My room doesn't feel like MY room. It feels like a hole with a bed and some stuff I remember putting in there. I have to reclaim in a sense, but that usually takes a couple of days. I just want it to be mine again, damn it, lol.

I'll end this with - I don't feel normal. I feel very, very odd. At least more than usual. I'm currently drinking a cup of coffee, painfully aware of the scar tissue lining my lungs, wondering what the hell happened with the day. Tomorrow will be better. Has too, right?