it's 5:48 am, on December 04, 2001 - way too much izzy.

~

A lot has happened since we spoke last.

Oh, nothing really important, I suppose. No exams yet; we don't know whether Buffy and Spike will keep up their sad parade. My computer is still broken. I'm not even sure if they're calling it a war anymore; I remember at one point on the news an anchor mentioned offhand that planes were coming back with bombs, still, because they were having problems finding their targets.

I wondered, at the time, if that translated into, they were having problems finding any targets, and if there was anything left standing at all. I figure, not.

Nothing really important. Let's recap, because it's a sad parade.

~*~

"So. We finally did that, huh?" Justin sounds gravelly and Lance drops the shirts and starts looking for tea or something. Justin stands up and grabs Lance's arm, making a sound that's almost like a laugh. "Lance. Isn't this the part where we talk?"

"Sure." Lance doesn't shiver but he almost does. "What do we say?"

That was quoted at me as an example of karma, also, of how lines from random things really do mean more. Doqz said that I've sounded melancholy lately here. He also said that I feel things deeply, and it's not surprising that whatever it is in me that feels, that it takes some time off once and a while, to just cope with stuff. I was a bit surprised that he'd say I felt things deeply. I guess you guys know how I feel about that.

The question is now, do I talk about what's really wrong, do I try and explain in my own halting way that, though I felt dumped, it didn't feel unjust. Also, that my, attentions, towards my very own Toby made sure that, when someone else made a stab to the heart, I'd surely feel it as deeply and the same way, even if the knife was different and both times, I should have seen it coming and should have probably, apologized.

I wonder if social catholicism is a catching disease.

To answer the question, 'what's wrong', I went to spilled milk, a website I set up devoted to my mythology. And came across another line that, man, looking back on it, seems far less whimsical and far more intense than maybe it should be.

The really funny thing is, rereading about the fort, the line isn't anywhere in the story. It's kind of the punchline for everything else-- maybe not so funny.

Anyway, it's things like these that make me believe in karma.

That question seems to be going around a lot lately, I'm noticing. I write it on Iz's scalp, slowly. Wha...t... th...e...fuc...k... a...re.... you.... do...in...g.

Ricky, man, you went and got smart when I wasn't looking.

~*~

Izzy never thought he'd find himself honest-to-god scared to call Rick. Never though that his stomach trembling would be from Ricky, of all people, and just because this was real life, and not a show, and somewhere Izzy forgot how to differentiate the two.

But he does, and leaves a message on Ricky's answering machine. Some day, he thinks to himself, I'll get a camera crew to follow us around and we'll find out what it's really like, none of this hiding behind text and computer bullshit. I'm in the biz, Izzy thinks, and laughs harsh.

He's in the Corner, but it's ten in the morning, and he has to go before noon. Him and Rick haven't crossed paths in over a month; first it was schedule, then it was some kind of little trickle of a canyon that widened, ever so slowly into a gaping maw. Maw. Iz has always been fond of that word.

He wants to sulk and say, 'it's not my fault' but he also doesn't want to lie, because he doesn't want to be a fool as well as a liar at once. Alex has been on vacation or something, and though Izzy has fallen into new habits with new people easily, he's startled at how intensely, and how erratically, he misses the things that have changed.

"You know, Iz," says one of his friends, "You've been weird lately."

It's not an understatement, perhaps, but they don't even know what he's lost, since he's not even sure and doesn't know whether it can ever come back again. It feels like being dumped and he can't even get resentful because it was there, in his face, to lick up -- that he deserved it, so sulking is okay but only in self pity and maybe a little diva-self-recrimination. martyr? Yes, possibly. unhappy, oh yes.

And, funny thing, he didn't know that losing Rick would mean Alex would disappear too, but karmic things all work like that.

He looks at the clock and sighs; work is going to want him to do overtime if he doesn't hurry it up soon. Everyone around him is familiar, but also new. It takes something extraordinary to shove Izzy into something he can't bounce back from, and this winter could be it without even him noticing.

Work sucks. He says it out loud. "Work sucks." He closes the fic he's reading, because it's all just reminding him that he's scared, turns the computer off, and, yeah. There isn't an end because this isn't a story, and he knows that.

~*~

Well, that was carthartic and not even in code. Only somewhere it lost the thinly veiled message, if there was one, and ended up being selfish. And now I have nsync in my head, and it's six o'clock in the morning, and I'm hungry, and Dad's sleeping downstairs so I can't eat.

I haven't written Izzy in a long time. --haven't felt Izzy in a long time. Mostly, though, that was horribly inaccurate both for the real world and for the wmf; because that sensation would never come over Izzy in this way, this plot. They get a sheila-happy-ending.

I have an exam in two days that I think I'm going to bomb utterly. I'm scared of this, utterly paralytic.

Al says that Justin and Lance is just wrong, because it's so *blond*. But Chris and Toby is wrong too, and I have a fondness for them, and Bobby and Pete even moreso than Remy and Pete, or Remy and Bobby. Bobby and Pete is just about everything you don't want to speak.

The question of the day is, what the fuck are you doing. I think. I don't know how to explain how the two of you are the same anymore except to say, you both scare me and I think I want both of you because I empathize with Chris and his not-thinking-about-Lance.

~

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