Sample Platter - Journal Entry - Rhys Loudoun (OC)
(( PB: Ryan Dunn, Harry Potter AU ))

Yeah, happy fucking Christmas. Mum and Dad are leaving for Grandmum's house tomorrow and we never got to watch bloody Muppet Christmas Carol. Mum says we can watch it when they come home, but like fuck I'm going to watch a Christmas movie after Christmas. I'm starting to kind of wish I didn't tell them they could go away. It's not that I don't want to give them a nice holiday (for once, in what feels like a million years). I guess I'm having second thoughts about leaving left alone for the...thing. The holiday. I mean. I think. I like Christmas. I even like it when it's at Grandmum's or Nanna's, as ridiculous as that is, since I haven't been there since I was fifteen, and they really are both very miserable old women. Well, Nanna's is bareable, when Uncle Rick comes over. Which, I think, is even less than we do. He's magic, I think. I don't know how else he can escape the guilt/wrath of Nanna. Any road...I...forget where I was going with this. Oh, right. Cheesed off about Mum and Dad going away. It was my bloody idea, too, which makes it even worse. Well, no, it's Nanna's fault, actually. But I was the one who told them it was okay. (I wonder if they hate me for that...) I just don't know. This is the first time...the first Christmas we've spent apart. And I'm telling myself, "Look, you'll have to get used to it eventually, you're not going to live with them forever, mate," and I'm not one to knock independence, but it feels like too much, too soon. Which, of course, I can't tell them. If I do, then they'll stay. They can't stay. They've got to go. Not because of obligation to their respective mothers, but because they need to know what it's like without me, too. They can't spend their whole lives taking care of me. Which I know they technically haven't. But I feel like they have. And they've done a good job. They deserve a break, though, and this is their break. I think Mum said they were going to take a day or two between houses to go do their own thing. Which is good, they need that.

It could be all right, you know, I guess. Having the house to myself. At least then I know Mum won't follow me around with an ashtray. That'll be a nice change. Ahah, and not a change but an incredible simulation, Dad threw me a bone (...HAHAHAHAH...) and filled the liquor cabinet. Fridge's pretty full of beer, too. So essentially, I'm free to drink the holiday away and make it go by really fast. Brilliant. If I don't come out of this next week with a serious liver disease, then there is no God.

Party on, Wayne. Party on, Garth.

Gah, my fingertips feel weird. That's what I get for poking the basement door handle.

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Dad's a good enough bloke that he actually, quite literally, threw me a couple bones. I'm not sure if this is incredibly silly, or really nice. I've got new chew toys, too. Mum says she saw what kind of shape the last few are in, and she was sad to say that she thought it was time to retire them. She got me a couple cheap, little stuffed toys, too, since...she won't be able to bring my puppy down for me in the morning. I think I accidentally made her feel bad, though, about that, because I told her I didn't like the way they smelled. But I don't. They smell new and like a store. And a million people, so I predict that they'll all be small piles of fabric and fluff long before this time next week. The embarrassing bit of this is that what made me realize that I didn't want them to go was the fact that I wouldn't get my puppy. That'll be weird. My whole life revolves around routine. But I suppose it's okay to break routine. Doesn't hurt, does it?

Oh, and when I told Dad that I had the whole door handle thing all taken care of and not to worry about it...I may have grossly exaggerated. In fact, I did grossly exaggerate. My hand is going to be one giant blister. Fun.

Speaking of fun, if that's what you can call it, I'm having Sofi over for a mini-party on Friday, since I'll be otherwise a wolf for his actual birthday. I hate to say it, but I want to back out. Even though I'm stupid and already said, "Hey, come on down to the library, we'll have a wild time you're coming to my place." And this is why. It's recently...okay, not really recently. More like it's been a little bit in my head since we met. But it's recently become a big deal in my head, maybe that's what I meant. Augh. I can't even put it in writing. I'm going to. Write it. Right now. ilikesofi I've some feelings for I want to bang Geezus. I THINK I'M ATTRACTED TO SOFI. There. Fuuuuuuuuuuck. I'm fighting my right hand away from scribbling that out, too. But I can't help it. I don't want to talk about it. I don't. Because if I don't look at it, maybe it will go away. If I don't see it, it won't see me. I want to bash my head against a wall and then, when it cracks open, slowly rub every last bit of my brains into the dent I made. Why does this have to happen to me? I've one boyfriend boy friend FRIEND THAT IS OF THE MALE GENDER, and I go and fuck it up by having...thinking I have?...some stupid crush on him. My mother would be miserable if she knew the first real friend I've had in ages is also someone whose pants I want to get into. AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF I REALLY WANT TO GET INTO HIS PANTS OR IF I'M JUST SAYING THAT BECAUSE I'M A HORNY, WILD MONSTER. It's more than that. Yes, I keep thinking I want to shag him, but that's just because I do a lot of thinking with my penis around this time of the month. But. And I hate to say this because it would almost be easier if I just thought I wanted to shag him because I'm horny and he's pretty. It's more than that. I don't know what it is. I couldn't even...start to explain it. ...I...no, no, stoppit. OKAY I SAID IT. I'm not saying any more on the subject. Ever. It can't see me because I have my eyes closed and I am hiding from it. I am going to be a normal person when he comes over on Friday. I am not going to greet him with my reproductive organs. Or worse, with feelings. No more. Moot topic.

I like the way he smells. I don't know what kind of smell it is. But I like it.

I SWEAR THAT'S ALL.
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I had that weird little dream about Sofi and me being in a bookshop again. Only this time, I think I was supposed to be Obi-Wan, but instead of a lightsaber, I had a stick.

Wow, appropriate music. Thank you, Jack White.