I've been thinking of how to do this quote unquote properly. In fact, I've been deliberating on whether I should do it at all, but my therapist says that's just perfectionism talking, and that I should do it regardless of how good it is.
As of writing this, I haven't spoken to or seen Him in 25 days. He hasn't called, or written a letter, and a part of me hopes He never will.
25 days since the shooting. 25 days since it all went to shit. 25 since my life as a lawyer completely disintegrated.
I'm not a strong writer, never have been. I've always been told I'm cold and calculating, that I was born to be a defense attorney, ever since I was a child, but I keep having the same dream, and I need to get it out.
The dream goes as follows: I'm in my old office, I'm going over a case, when in walks the blond haired devil Himself, brandishing a gun. And He asks me, with a dead tone, and too-wide eyes, Do You Want Me? And before I can answer yes or no, before I can even come up with an answer, He shoots me.
He, Himself, shoots me. And I'm not so lucky to get a shallow shot in the arm this time. I'm completely incapacitated. I think He shoots me point-blank, like an assassination, but like everything He does, it's botched. Because, somehow, I make it out alive. I survive, and even worse, I still want Him. I still think of Him. The case never makes it to court, and I find myself feeling jealous. Who did He hire to replace me? Who is it that's now erasing His transgressions? Who is it preventing Him from ever seeing a court date? And why do I want, so badly, to be that person again? To be by His side?
p.s. I find this diary shit stupid. So if you're future me, rereading this before writing the second entry, I'm proud of you. You're also a fucking loser.
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