Five Vices
So, here I am with the five vices meme, as started by Rachael, tagged by Nellie and Aisling. They’re fighting over me! *is gleeful*
- List five vices you have, with a description if you want to.
- Tag five bloggers for this meme.
- Link back to the blogger who tagged you, and this post if you want to be nice!
Coke
I like my fizzy drinks, and Coke is my favourite. I can drink it like nobody’s business. Normally this is okay, except when I drank a whole two and a half litres at ten at night. I spent the whole night humming songs, twiddling my thumbs, and going to the bathroom.
The Internet
I have an addiction. But it’s not a problem! Well, except for the fact I never go out nowadays, am pale as snow from not getting any sun, and I’ll probably destroy my hands from typing so much. But whatever.
Nailbiting
It’s disgusting and I hate it, but I still do it, especially when I am stressed.
Procrastination
I’ll get to it… eventually!
Distraction
… I’m sorry, I got distracted by… stuff.
Okay, and who shall I tag… Erin, Kaylee… I think that’s all, since everyone seems to be doing it already.
A Scarfie in the Wrong City
It’s always a delight to get mail that’s not from the uni, the bank or something else to do with me not having any money, so there was a big smile when my package from my friend Kirsti finally arrived.
As you can see, the present was a lovely made-by-Kirsti scarf and since it is too warm here for me to use it right now, it is instead being modelled by the lovely Cheer Bear. It also came with a note, part of which read:
Anyway, I thought I’d send you this as a Scarfie at a new uni, I figured you’d need a new scarf! I hope you like the colours - but then again, you did help me pick them out!
I do love the scarf, Kirsti, and I love the colours - although at the time I wasn’t picking them for me! Thank you! It’ll help me colour up my winter wardrobe.
In other news, I am all finished registering with the university, and I start on Monday. I’m already registered with Disability Support Services, too. The anti-depressants have started set in and my concentration has started to come back, and I am sleeping better than I have in years. There is, however, a new diagnosis of PTSD, which is a bummer. But better I know, I guess.
So a whole new adventure starts on Monday. The final years of my degree, hopefully!
Wish me luck!
Bad Dreams :(
To quote my friend Steph, who I told this dream to, “Yay PTSD”.
There’s a construction crew, laying down cement to make, I don’t know, not like a tunnel but a hollow trail in the ground. Like a pipe, but not. I’m watching them from the side, but not really paying attention.
Until one of them starts shouting. There’s fingers sticking out of the earth.
The earth that they were about to cement over immediately vanishes, and I see one, two, a dozen, two dozen, hundreds of bodies piled one on top of each other, like bricks in a wall.
I feel sick.
I feel sicker when I notice one body’s eyes are fluttering.
I start screaming for everyone to help, to get down there and help me lift the bodies off this one guy, pull the slabs above them off so we can drag him out.
But he’s not they only one still alive. More eyes begin fluttering, mouths gasp for air, fingers reach for nothing. They’re all still alive.
Except the ones I’ve just watched be cemented up. I can’t see them, I’ve never seen them, but I know they’re dead. And I know they died while I was standing over them.
The scene cuts to me running down circular stairs. On each floor there is one door and one door only, but none lead to the exit. Only two doors matter: the one at the top, where I came in, and the one at the bottom, where the serial killer does his best work.
But he’s not there right now; I watched him leave. No one believes my story about it - about the killer who never kills his mass of victims, and instead lets other people (such as the construction crew) finish the job - so I have to do it myself.
In his lair I find the evidence I need to prove his guilt; he finds me.
I struggle, but he manages to subdue me. I finally figure out how he managed to keep all those people from struggling - I’m paralysed.
He tosses me into a pit and tells me I’m special. I’m the first one he’s ever killed directly…
Disdainful-Soul.net
D-S.net is the personal blog of Catherine, a 22 year old girl from New Zealand with a love of modern tech and ancient history and with aspirations to become a published author. 
