Dorothy told me today that it seems odd that a girl who has yet to reach her twenty-second birthday should be thinking so much of endings as I do, these days. Had anyone else said it, I would assume they were ignorant or stupid, but Dorothy is neither. She is sarcastic, and dedicated to irritating me, and eveything she says is meaningful.
It still seems unfair to me. The end of a dream is hard, especially if you weren't prepared for it.
Doctor Yan says she thinks I was more prepared than I believe. She says the dreams I had of dying, which I have not told anyone else about, not even Heero, could have been an indication that I subconciously anticipated my breakdown and the consequences it would have. Maybe she's right.
Psychoanalysis aside, it still hurts. [1]
Yan pushes, gently, and says I need to reevaluate my life, which I reply is what I've been doing ever since Matas was confirmed as Minister. I know I'm not going to get it back. I suppose she's never had to change her whole life's plans, though, and has no idea how it would feel.
I mentioned that to Dorothy, and she said something about college, and something about having an idea, and then she said what she said about endings. She said maybe I should think about the flipside.
I presume she means that I should think of the beginning, instead. If I can't do what I always thought I'd do, I have the freedom to do something else instead.
And I'll admit, yes, it is possible to be confined by a dream. It's just that--
It's just--just that changes are always hard, harder if you can't choose them. You get used to them in the end. Every so often, I get a little pang for Ilsa; she was a nice woman, and a good bodyguard, and she didn't talk nearly so much as Dorothy. But Dorothy's been here for what feels like forever, and she'll be here either until Une decides to transfer her or until I get so sick and tired of her that I request a change of guard.
I admit, there's a part of me that wants to stick it out and see what happens, because I've found I can irritate Dorothy almost as much as she irritates me. It's almost fun.
And she did read me poetry. I didn't ask her to do that. Maybe it's just one of those things upper-class girls are taught to do. I've never asked. But the day Sally dropped by and told me she had confirmed the indefinite leave, when I locked myself into the bathroom to cry, Dorothy sat outside the door and read poetry until I agreed to come back into the living room. And she read until she was half-hoarse, and then she started reading THAT poem, and we had a fight. She always does that. Whenever I start feeling comfortable around her, she sticks a pin in.
Re: I call this one "HAY LOOK WHAT I FOUND ON MY HARD DRIVE!"
Date: 2006-02-21 04:49 am (UTC)From Relena's Journal:
Dorothy told me today that it seems odd that a girl who has yet to reach her twenty-second birthday should be thinking so much of endings as I do, these days. Had anyone else said it, I would assume they were ignorant or stupid, but Dorothy is neither. She is sarcastic, and dedicated to irritating me, and eveything she says is meaningful.
It still seems unfair to me. The end of a dream is hard, especially if you weren't prepared for it.
Doctor Yan says she thinks I was more prepared than I believe. She says the dreams I had of dying, which I have not told anyone else about, not even Heero, could have been an indication that I subconciously anticipated my breakdown and the consequences it would have. Maybe she's right.
Psychoanalysis aside, it still hurts. [1]
Yan pushes, gently, and says I need to reevaluate my life, which I reply is what I've been doing ever since Matas was confirmed as Minister. I know I'm not going to get it back. I suppose she's never had to change her whole life's plans, though, and has no idea how it would feel.
I mentioned that to Dorothy, and she said something about college, and something about having an idea, and then she said what she said about endings. She said maybe I should think about the flipside.
I presume she means that I should think of the beginning, instead. If I can't do what I always thought I'd do, I have the freedom to do something else instead.
And I'll admit, yes, it is possible to be confined by a dream. It's just that--
It's just--just that changes are always hard, harder if you can't choose them. You get used to them in the end. Every so often, I get a little pang for Ilsa; she was a nice woman, and a good bodyguard, and she didn't talk nearly so much as Dorothy. But Dorothy's been here for what feels like forever, and she'll be here either until Une decides to transfer her or until I get so sick and tired of her that I request a change of guard.
I admit, there's a part of me that wants to stick it out and see what happens, because I've found I can irritate Dorothy almost as much as she irritates me. It's almost fun.
And she did read me poetry. I didn't ask her to do that. Maybe it's just one of those things upper-class girls are taught to do. I've never asked. But the day Sally dropped by and told me she had confirmed the indefinite leave, when I locked myself into the bathroom to cry, Dorothy sat outside the door and read poetry until I agreed to come back into the living room. And she read until she was half-hoarse, and then she started reading THAT poem, and we had a fight. She always does that. Whenever I start feeling comfortable around her, she sticks a pin in.