Nearly There

Hello again. This is the third piece to go with "Betchin' Blog" and "Fecking Diary" This would be Near's private blog/ journal.

Hello.

The idea of writing one's thoughts and musings fr the world to see and judge really does not appeal to me . However, I can imagine that such an exercise shall prove therapeutic. I suppose I shall be forced to divulge irrelevant personal information... that is rather troubling. I digress. You may refer to me, if you refer to me at all, if I allow this to be read by the public, as "Near" as Matthew, aka "Matty-Mario3" already has. He, his love interest "Mello" and our shared idol "Living and Breathing" all attended the same orphanage/ boarding school. We should be like brothers, Matt, Mello and I. I suppose in a twisted way we are, brothers with an exaggerated case of textbook style sibling rivalry and, in the case of , Matthew and Mello, incest issues. How repulsive.

I am in the lead of the trio when it comes to intellect. Mello is far too emotional and hasty, and Matthew does not apply himself. He would rather waste himself being busy with those games. I play a fair bit myself, but do so in a structural manner that keeps my mind sharp, and does not turn it into proverbial mush. Speaking of proverbial mush. Linder is giving me that look again. I feel that my legs have equivalent consistency of said mush, which in turn should be equal to...Jello? good thing I am siting already. I also feel...the only workable metaphor would be that small winged creatures are attempting to escape my stomach and small intestine.

Ludicrous. Yet I cannot explain her actions nor my reactions in any satisfactory manner. I do not like it. Perhaps, perhaps someone in the vastness of the internet can diagnose my ailment. I hate attending a physician, they always tell me the same things. Thus far in my sixteen years of life, I have been "informed" by various professionals of: My albinism (as if I didn't notice), my stunted growth, poor eating habits, and OCD. As if I didn't look in a mirror, see other people be giants in comparison to me, feed myself, or notice how I must stack things correctly. Quacks, all of them...

Please...someone rational... what's -wrong- with me this time?

I've had this feeling for a long time. I assumed it was just...pubescence making itself clear. "Lust", if you will. But it can't be. I've..sated anything that could be in that department. For the sake of making it go away, and personal growth, of course. For... the collection of data on human sexuality, if you will. Certainly not "just because". I suppose I shall have to tell you the whole story... at some point. Right now I just wish that Linder's glare didn't look so appealing. Odd, that I still refer to her by her last name. I know her given name, of course. I am her employer. She doesn't know either of my names, given or sur. To her I am simply Near, or "N". Not fair, not fair at all...

Yet I say I stand for justice.

She's still glaring at me, her hands on her swollen stomach. What does she want me to do? It was consensual, after all. I by no means forced her, as if I could. She is stronger than me, I openly admit it. She is older as well, at twenty four to my mere sixteen. What am I going to do? What does she want?

What's wrong with me?

I'll allow someone to answer me at some point...right now I don't want anyone to read this... I just need to get it out...I do feel a fair bit better...

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