Noah Jett Fitzaptrick (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
maybethatsalie) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2014-01-21 11:14 am
maybethatsalie) wrote in muserevival2014-01-21 11:14 am
052.2. Private Diary/Blog
"Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me." - Wonderwall, Oasis
I don’t think Euan would appreciate being called a Fairy Godmother, but that is exactly how it feels like right now. Gratitude just doesn’t seem enough, and I don’t have anyway of truly thanking him or paying him back for what he has done for me. He’s given me a reason to keep living. I realise now how fucked up I really was when, before, I didn’t care whether I lived or died. But he did. It’s been a long time since anyone cared and I guess there is someone else out there who might have been the recipient of his kindness if I hadn’t been where I was when he saw I needed help. I hope whoever they are okay and they’re getting the help they need too.
The hardest part is that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve forgotten how to be helped and how to just accept it for what it is without feeling the urge to screw it all up to push it away. I’m losing my mind more often than not right now, and that terrifies me. What if all this shit has destroyed my brain? I have just been told I’m HIV Positive, either from the time I was attacked when I wouldn’t put out for a hit, or probably more like sharing infected needles when I was already too trashed to care. But now Euan seems to think there might be a chance I have a mental illness. He’s a detective and I trust him. It’s his job to be able to read people, and read between their lines. I don’t care. He can psycho-analyse me all he needs. Fuck knows I need it.
Why does the thought of having developed a mental illness from this absolutely terrify me more than being told I was Positive? When you’re trashing yourself on the regular with something like ice, I guess it was like flirting with ruining everything that makes you who you are, and repeatedly. But I forgot who I was a long time ago, and maybe I never even knew to start with. I can’t remember a time I was happy. I can’t remember a time I liked what I was or had a plan of what came next. All it ever was was being the cookie-cutter perfect religious son my folks wanted and needed me to be. I used to be good at that, the pretending and the conforming. Now I can’t even pretend to know myself, because I don’t. I’m scared of myself, and the worst part about that is, I’m probably my own biggest risk.
And now there is this person who cares about me and wants to help however he can. Someone has my back, and it has been a domino effect of even more people who care and who are amazing to just chat to and help me remember that there is more to this world than being starving, freezing, desperate for a hit, and just basically sick and damaged all the time. I don’t know if I’m going to survive this. Maybe in accepting the help, it still might kill me, but this is my last chance to live and it’s a priceless gift Euan gave me and didn’t want a single thing in return.
He gave it when his own world was so full of pain and heartache, gave it when he already had his own family to worry and care for, and gave it only on the condition that I just keep trying. He hasn’t pushed me and demanded I succeed. He hasn’t told me I better do it or else. He hasn’t told me that if I fail and fuck it up, I’m out in the cold again. He knew that aiming to succeed is too much of a burden for my fucked up brain to fathom right now, but aiming to try is the beginning. Sometimes, wanting to try is all you have, and I just hope I can make it through these patches of losing my fucking mind and my body failing me to a place where trying becomes succeeding and existing becomes living.
Noah Cameron :: Original Character
I don’t think Euan would appreciate being called a Fairy Godmother, but that is exactly how it feels like right now. Gratitude just doesn’t seem enough, and I don’t have anyway of truly thanking him or paying him back for what he has done for me. He’s given me a reason to keep living. I realise now how fucked up I really was when, before, I didn’t care whether I lived or died. But he did. It’s been a long time since anyone cared and I guess there is someone else out there who might have been the recipient of his kindness if I hadn’t been where I was when he saw I needed help. I hope whoever they are okay and they’re getting the help they need too.
The hardest part is that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve forgotten how to be helped and how to just accept it for what it is without feeling the urge to screw it all up to push it away. I’m losing my mind more often than not right now, and that terrifies me. What if all this shit has destroyed my brain? I have just been told I’m HIV Positive, either from the time I was attacked when I wouldn’t put out for a hit, or probably more like sharing infected needles when I was already too trashed to care. But now Euan seems to think there might be a chance I have a mental illness. He’s a detective and I trust him. It’s his job to be able to read people, and read between their lines. I don’t care. He can psycho-analyse me all he needs. Fuck knows I need it.
Why does the thought of having developed a mental illness from this absolutely terrify me more than being told I was Positive? When you’re trashing yourself on the regular with something like ice, I guess it was like flirting with ruining everything that makes you who you are, and repeatedly. But I forgot who I was a long time ago, and maybe I never even knew to start with. I can’t remember a time I was happy. I can’t remember a time I liked what I was or had a plan of what came next. All it ever was was being the cookie-cutter perfect religious son my folks wanted and needed me to be. I used to be good at that, the pretending and the conforming. Now I can’t even pretend to know myself, because I don’t. I’m scared of myself, and the worst part about that is, I’m probably my own biggest risk.
And now there is this person who cares about me and wants to help however he can. Someone has my back, and it has been a domino effect of even more people who care and who are amazing to just chat to and help me remember that there is more to this world than being starving, freezing, desperate for a hit, and just basically sick and damaged all the time. I don’t know if I’m going to survive this. Maybe in accepting the help, it still might kill me, but this is my last chance to live and it’s a priceless gift Euan gave me and didn’t want a single thing in return.
He gave it when his own world was so full of pain and heartache, gave it when he already had his own family to worry and care for, and gave it only on the condition that I just keep trying. He hasn’t pushed me and demanded I succeed. He hasn’t told me I better do it or else. He hasn’t told me that if I fail and fuck it up, I’m out in the cold again. He knew that aiming to succeed is too much of a burden for my fucked up brain to fathom right now, but aiming to try is the beginning. Sometimes, wanting to try is all you have, and I just hope I can make it through these patches of losing my fucking mind and my body failing me to a place where trying becomes succeeding and existing becomes living.
Noah Cameron :: Original Character