Kip Everett Pryor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
niceguysfinishlast) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2017-01-12 10:23 pm
niceguysfinishlast) wrote in muserevival2017-01-12 10:23 pm
Quote of the Day 001.
"If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude." - Maya Angelou
For all the hangovers Kip had experienced, he felt like he was never going to get used to this awful woozy sensation like his head was being sat on when he came-to after a seizure. He had a complete meltdown in the doctor’s office the day before, not having coped well with the news of the diagnosis. It felt like everything was bullshit, because all of a sudden he was supposed to be having these frequent seizures, when he was pretty sure he maybe only had one before, and he didn’t even believe it was that.
He was being a prized asshole, to say the least. It wasn’t intentional, it was just difficult to avoid because he was sick, scared, and freaking out having all this land on him suddenly. And why? Because he had been a drug user in his teens. The risk of long-term damage from drugs was significantly increased when your brain was developing. That was why there were so many warnings about it. Didn’t he learn that in school? No, fuck. He was too busy ditching school to get trashed because he crippled his best friend and his teachers thought he was a lazy loser… for fuck’s sake.
He was angry. At himself. He wasn’t angry at anyone else, it was just hard to process everything coming at him so hard and fast. This, after trying to go through detox because he had the living shit scared out of him seeing a recovering drug addict not much more than his age on life support. That was why he was having seizures now. His body was taxed beyond its capacity. You tax your body, you pay the price. Kip fired back saying wasn’t taking drugs taxing the body anyway, and he was met with agreement, and also a reminder that even if he was having seizures when he was trashed, how would he know if he was already passed out cold?
That shut him up. And terrified him. He had a million questions, but no courage to ask them. It was lucky he wasn’t alone, because he wasn’t retaining anything. Angela there with him, taking all the notes for him in Clint’s absence, wrote everything down. He came away with a pile of information he couldn’t read, and a handful of pill bottles he also couldn’t read. What the fuck was he could to do? Colour code them or something. He had no idea how he was going to survive this. The worst part was, he never knew how to ask for help, because often he hoodwinked himself into believing he didn’t deserve it after causing Shannon’s accident.
Now he was here, trying to peel his head off the pillow. It was painful and felt like it was full of lead. The room was dark, and it was disorienting at first. As soon as he managed to divorce his head from the pillow, there were a few moments where it felt like he was going to throw up. The only choice he had was to put his head back down slowly and lie there to wait until the vertigo passed. There were vague recollections of people around him, telling him he just had a seizure and not to move. Next thing, he’s waking up again feeling like death.
“Do you want some water?”
Kip nearly shat himself in fright at the voice. Stiffly, he looked over his shoulder and found Shannon was sitting there on the bed beside him, iPad on his lap. “Fuck. Are you trying to kill me?”
“Trying to keep you alive, actually,” Shannon corrected. “You look like shit.”
“Feel it.”
Shannon nodded. “I know,” he sympathised quietly. “I get it.”
Although the room was dimmed, Kip’s eyes travelled up to his best friend’s face, illuminated by the iPad screen. “You think this is karma?”
“Karma would be if you fell off a horse and it shat on you,” Shannon offered with a faint smile down at him. “It would also mean I blame you. I don’t.”
“You should,” Kip mumbled.
“You’ll do enough of that yourself. I know you.”
“I’m not as strong as you. I can’t fucking do this.” Kip was sure crying might actually help. Apparently shedding a tear did that. He was too numb.
Shannon shrugged. “Well, tough shit, dude. You’re just going to have to do it anyway. I didn’t do all this to get back on my feet… uh, wheels, just to have you turn around and drop dead. You’re going to have to suck it up, princess, and do the only thing I could to get through it… let people help you.”
Silence reigned again. Kip was good at silence. He didn’t break the eye contact, though. That was a breakthrough, perhaps one more powerful than words.
“Water?” Shannon soon offered again.
“Thanks,” was Kip’s answer this time. And sometimes just one word could be more powerful than many.
+ KIP PRYOR (oc)
For all the hangovers Kip had experienced, he felt like he was never going to get used to this awful woozy sensation like his head was being sat on when he came-to after a seizure. He had a complete meltdown in the doctor’s office the day before, not having coped well with the news of the diagnosis. It felt like everything was bullshit, because all of a sudden he was supposed to be having these frequent seizures, when he was pretty sure he maybe only had one before, and he didn’t even believe it was that.
He was being a prized asshole, to say the least. It wasn’t intentional, it was just difficult to avoid because he was sick, scared, and freaking out having all this land on him suddenly. And why? Because he had been a drug user in his teens. The risk of long-term damage from drugs was significantly increased when your brain was developing. That was why there were so many warnings about it. Didn’t he learn that in school? No, fuck. He was too busy ditching school to get trashed because he crippled his best friend and his teachers thought he was a lazy loser… for fuck’s sake.
He was angry. At himself. He wasn’t angry at anyone else, it was just hard to process everything coming at him so hard and fast. This, after trying to go through detox because he had the living shit scared out of him seeing a recovering drug addict not much more than his age on life support. That was why he was having seizures now. His body was taxed beyond its capacity. You tax your body, you pay the price. Kip fired back saying wasn’t taking drugs taxing the body anyway, and he was met with agreement, and also a reminder that even if he was having seizures when he was trashed, how would he know if he was already passed out cold?
That shut him up. And terrified him. He had a million questions, but no courage to ask them. It was lucky he wasn’t alone, because he wasn’t retaining anything. Angela there with him, taking all the notes for him in Clint’s absence, wrote everything down. He came away with a pile of information he couldn’t read, and a handful of pill bottles he also couldn’t read. What the fuck was he could to do? Colour code them or something. He had no idea how he was going to survive this. The worst part was, he never knew how to ask for help, because often he hoodwinked himself into believing he didn’t deserve it after causing Shannon’s accident.
Now he was here, trying to peel his head off the pillow. It was painful and felt like it was full of lead. The room was dark, and it was disorienting at first. As soon as he managed to divorce his head from the pillow, there were a few moments where it felt like he was going to throw up. The only choice he had was to put his head back down slowly and lie there to wait until the vertigo passed. There were vague recollections of people around him, telling him he just had a seizure and not to move. Next thing, he’s waking up again feeling like death.
“Do you want some water?”
Kip nearly shat himself in fright at the voice. Stiffly, he looked over his shoulder and found Shannon was sitting there on the bed beside him, iPad on his lap. “Fuck. Are you trying to kill me?”
“Trying to keep you alive, actually,” Shannon corrected. “You look like shit.”
“Feel it.”
Shannon nodded. “I know,” he sympathised quietly. “I get it.”
Although the room was dimmed, Kip’s eyes travelled up to his best friend’s face, illuminated by the iPad screen. “You think this is karma?”
“Karma would be if you fell off a horse and it shat on you,” Shannon offered with a faint smile down at him. “It would also mean I blame you. I don’t.”
“You should,” Kip mumbled.
“You’ll do enough of that yourself. I know you.”
“I’m not as strong as you. I can’t fucking do this.” Kip was sure crying might actually help. Apparently shedding a tear did that. He was too numb.
Shannon shrugged. “Well, tough shit, dude. You’re just going to have to do it anyway. I didn’t do all this to get back on my feet… uh, wheels, just to have you turn around and drop dead. You’re going to have to suck it up, princess, and do the only thing I could to get through it… let people help you.”
Silence reigned again. Kip was good at silence. He didn’t break the eye contact, though. That was a breakthrough, perhaps one more powerful than words.
“Water?” Shannon soon offered again.
“Thanks,” was Kip’s answer this time. And sometimes just one word could be more powerful than many.
+ KIP PRYOR (oc)