What is the last thing you think about at night, lying in that half-drowsing state before sleep?"
Jeramie's the first to answer.
I feel him sometimes, just as I'm dropping off to sleep. In the moment that I relax my control of the mind, the body.
Nisar, whose body I have stolen, whose spirit I have desecrated. Mutilated. Hollowed out, burrowed into.
He is nothing but my mask. During the day, at least. But in those half-drowsing moments, I feel him stir - still impotent, still helpless, but there, conscious. Attempting to fight me.
The bastard was incredibly strong, to be so strong still.
But I am skilled in my arts.
Jeramie wasn't born evil.
It's harder this year than last year; Trileptal = teh mindfucker. docorion is upset about this. When I move to Boston, no Trileptal.
So I have not been writing overmuch lately at all, which is a Bad Thing; this Blogathon is good because it forces my brain back there. Doesn't matter if it's Good Enough, if I'm thinking straight enough, if I'm There. Have to do it. I promised.
Foodwise, I had some tuna casserole and half a bagel. (I had the other half for breakfast, with potato latkes.)