“You know,” Cole said pensively, breaking the silence, “they tried to make me go to rehab, too. Once. It didn’t work, but they tried.”
Alix glared at his lover and cell mate. “I wonder what the hell for.”
Cole furrowed his brow. “I’m…not actually sure. Something about ‘entirely too imbalanced to function as a normal human being in society’…or something like that.”
-Alix Renotta and Cole Blackwell, Rehab
Thought I'd start things with a rather appropriate quote. I've been living on the very tippy-top edge of sanity lately, and it's taking a lot for me to remember reality.
So! It's the morning after the opening night of Camelot, which (so convenient for a school night) started at 7:30 pm and ended a solid 3 and half hours later at 11. After getting home at 11:30, waiting on the phone for a good twenty minutes to let my mother know I got home, being told she's in an isolation room and could I give her a message for you?, saying sure, let her know I'm home, going up to my bed, getting all situated and comfy, and then having the phone ring, running downstairs to answer it, running back upstairs, now even more annoyed, I went to bed, completely exhausted, at a little after 12. Then I got up late. Ugh.
But misery loves company, and we've all (us people in Camelot) been collectively complaining, so it's all good. Three more performances to go.
Nom...so...my mother and I had a brief discussion the other day. Like, Monday night or something, my dad was over, and we were watching Dancing with the Stars. More like, my mom, dad, and sister were watching it, and I was playing with the dog. But at some point...oh, right, Maksim was in this pink, like, dress thing, and my dad said the "f" word (the one derogatory towards homosexuals), and my mother said it as well. It's one of the few words that I'm really, really uncomfortable saying as well as writing, like the "n" word and other racial slurs, and I really don't like when people say it, especially so candidly. But they didn't grow up in America (they're Trinidadian--woot! West Indies!), so homosexuality is handled differently down there. So naturally, I got upset, but not like, "Oh my gosh, you guys are so mean, stoooop it!" It was more like a sarcastic kind of upset, you know? Anyway, a few days after that, my mother was all like, "Why were you so upset the other day?"
Actually, lemme say something--my mother doesn't hate gay people. She has gay friends. So it's not like she's anti-gay or anything. But back to the story.
I was like, "Because I don't like that word," and she was like, "But why did you get so upset?" And I said, "Because you shouldn't say that about gay people." Then she said, "You don't react that strongly if I'm talking about a homeless person." And I said, "I don't know any homeless people personally. I have gay friends, and I don't like that word." Then she said, "I have gay friends, too, so why did you react like that? Are you gay?"
-_- Now. Rewind. Sophomore year, I had a major talk with my mother about how I liked this girl (I didn't tell her who, though) and how I thought I might be a lesbian, or at least bisexual. She said it was probably just a phase, or something to that effect, and basically dismissed it. It never came up again, I sorted it out myself, and here I am today...decidedly bisexual. Right now, I'm leaning more towards fucking asexual, with the desire I have for people. *eyeroll*
Point being, I told her at some point that I probably wasn't as straight as she thought. So when she asked me if I was gay, I said, "No." I was not lying. I am not gay. I am bi. There's a difference, as my good friend-in-my-head Jonathan Connolly is so wont to remind me. 
Anyway, then she asks me if I'm lying. I said, "No." Repeatedly. Eventually, she dropped it, but then that got me to thinking: why did react strongly? I have a sneaking suspicion it's because I'm slightly deluded. Actually, seriously deluded. I tend to...I don't even know how to describe it. I don't even know if I should write it down, where people can see. I feel like it's very important, but to describe it would completely be irrelevant, because it's very hard to explain. *sigh* I guess I'll try...
My characters...my really well-developed ones, I get really attached to them. Like, they're people in my head. I talk to them on a daily basis. It's almost impossible for me not to talk to them. They make me feel better when I'm upset. And the worst part is, I know it's basically just me talking to myself, but...I can't help but wonder if anybody else talks to themselves as in depth as I do. I can't be the only one, I know that, but if I ever told my friends how often I talk to myself...pretty much every time I'm being quiet...I'd probably be called crazy (not like I'm not already called that...).
...but whatever. I think I'm overreacting to myself, which I tend to do on occasion when I've got a lot to do. 
Oh! But the point of that whole last...paragraph or so is that one of my gay characters, Lex Rhodes, was raped when he was seventeen, and another one, Cole Blackwell, experienced a lot of shit because he was gay, and I love them like the brothers I never had, so I take that sort of thing personally. The "f" word thing.
NEXT TOPIC! Um...my old piano teacher is coming to visit this Sunday. That's it.
NEXT TOPIC! They're playing music in my Social Justice class right now because we have a sub, the good kind that lets us do whatever as long as we don't burn down the classroom. Not that we would be doing anything in class anyway, just now we get to do nothing...with a crappy soundtrack. "Check yes, Juliet, are you with me..." Hate that song.
NEXT TOPIC! I have so much to catch up on in Organization Oblivion. Not even funny. I think I'll go finish reading the posts now.
I'm hungry. Lunch is in...twenty minutes. I've got a chicken sandwich and a granola bar.
My friend John says: Rrrrrrroooooooonn.
Basking in the sunlight shining on the corner desk,
Kimi-chan
