burned after written(handwritten journal entry)

Things would be a whole hell of a lot easier, if we'd just gone with my gameplan. Things wouldn't be so fucking messy. I never used to do things this poorly, this fucking sloppy. It's a mess. It's all a mess. I don't even really know how to begin cleaning it up, either. Like I don't at all know if I can do this at all, even if it went off without a hitch, which is impossible. It's not going to go off without a hitch, the entire plan is made of hitches, and Jackson's throwing a hard wrench into the entire thing. Even more so now, really.

He wants me to leave, and now I'm apparently responsible for the downfall of his precious Brett. I'm sure he'll pin that on me as long as humanly possible. He's already defied all logic to do so. While Brett says he'll talk to him, I don't foresee it going well. Brett's volatile by nature. Jackson'll push some button and he'll go flying off the handle like he usually does. And Jackson's just as irrational as Brett, so I'm going to be quite surprised if it doesn't come to blows. And even if it doesn't? I don't think Brett understands Jackson's position. Just from what I know of the man, not having known him for long, and going off of my experiences with him and what Brett's told me--he's not going to just smile and nod and 'understand'. He's going to believe whatever lets him sleep at night, and I think that's going to be making me into a big target. If he can blame me he doesn't have to blame his friend. If I'm the source of all evil, Brett doesn't have to be the bad guy. I've seen it before, it's a very difficult kind of mentality to get through. There's nothing in the world like self-imposed denial. There's also very little that's more dangerous. People like that, people who've deliberately blinded themselves because the truth is too awful to face...they're dangerous people anyways. Stick someone they care about into the mix? It's worse. People get killed that way. I suppose at least I think if anyone did it would be me. If I was less self-aware, I'd probably be worried about that being a comfort.

I didn't tell him what to do. I suggested a story that may work to put Jackson off edge a little, even if I don't believe it'll get him fully off our backs. Or more specifically, mine. Either way if he does go with it, our plans will need to change. I didn't tell him that. Somehow I think it would play into his decision of whether or not to use said story. If he does, I'll tell him the plans have to change then. I didn't want it to affect his decision. Maybe I overestimate my influence. At the moment, I don't know anymore. I don't know much of anything right now.

Like I'm writing this down, and I don't do this. I don't keep a journal, and yet this is the second time in recent history where I've felt like if I don't write this down, it's going to suffocate me. That word, however, does describe how I feel. Like I'm suffocating. Like I can't get enough air. I don't even know why. It's like the panic attacks I would get just after I came out of the fog. Like those, only slower. Like instead of it all overwhelming me at once, it's a slow build, where I can feel it looming, closing in, but it won't grip me just yet. I think this is worse. I'd rather have a panic attack and get it over with.

I thought last night that Brett was ashamed of me. I hadn't ever truly even thought of things on that level before, but with Jackson around, it seemed suddenly prominent. And I realized that I thought he would be. He later said that he wasn't. It was then that it hit me that it mattered to me. It very much mattered to me. That isn't a good thing. It's a bad sign, in general, though specifically in light of the fact that Brett does not actually want a relationship.(the very word seems to offend him) That sort of emotion, that reaction I had there tells me his opinion matters to me. How he feels about me and being viewed as being with me does have some sway in my emotions. It's just as jarring to me as finding out when I thought they'd come for me, when I thought they'd hurt him, I didn't try to save myself, I went for him.

I feel compromised. I'm that weak link in the agenda. Looking at myself, part of me could see a million ways to exploit it. To twist it around, and play everything else off of it, or, alternately, to snap it off entirely, to cause backlash from there. Maybe that's part of what worries me the most. I know exactly how someone like me would fuck me over. Hell, it wouldn't be hard at all. Of course, I'm talking from a place where I know all the factors. What would someone else see? What did Jackson see when he was here? What role has he placed me in? That's all I've ever been, just a role cast in someone's life. Normally I just have much more say in what that role entails. To Jackson, I suppose I am now the devil, the root of all evil. While that role's been mine many times in my life, with Jackson, it feels more sinister. It's that emotional factor thrown in, that addition of him having a true stake in things. And not just some ideal he's holding up. No, this involves true emotion, and a genuine desire to help. A genuine belief in being someone's savior. He's the hero, I'm the villain, and we all know what happens to the villain in the end.

Ironic, considering my main goal in all of this was to get Brett out from under, to give him his life back, whatever he wanted to do with it. Jackson believes the Brett he knew just needs some help, Brett believes the man Jackson knew is dead. I believe the truth is somewhere inbetween. I think if the hero in Brett were really dead I would be too. But he's right when he says he isn't the same person he was. It's just not nearly as different as he tells himself.

I'm getting off track. Mainly I'm upset because I think I'm in deeper than I can afford to be. I'm already emotionally compromised due to the brain damage I've sustained. I never used to have them, and now that I do, I'm not especially well versed in dealing with them. I'm emotionally attached to Brett, and that isn't a good thing. Not that I can see, anyhow. He tells me he wants me. Just that. Nothing more. Maybe what I'm starting to feel is that I'm just as much an object to him as I was to everyone else. Or less an object, I suppose. Brett wouldn't see it like that. He wouldn't agree, and I don't think that's quite the score. Maybe it's more I'm an idea. He was stuck in a life he hated, and one night he made a choice. I still wonder just how long he stared down at me, debating. I can't tell if I think it was a rash, immediate decision that he didn't really think over until after it was done, or if he had to think about it. I could see it either way. But he made his decision, he opted to save me, and maybe that helped him sleep a little better at night. At least until I started kicking up more of a fuss. I suppose part of me is waiting for the axe to fall. It would be poetic justice. I become emotionally involved with someone, and they aren't there with me, then eventually opt to bail. Writing this down at the moment, I wonder if that hasn't been some hidden motivation of mine, when I keep suggesting other ways for him to go that don't in any way involve me. Not that it would only be best for him, but it would save me pain later.

Last night, my head was such a mess, such a terrible place to be, but he never asked me what was wrong. Perhaps it was because he didn't recognize that anything was. Or perhaps he didn't care. For a few moments we talked about talking. I always want to and he never does. That's stood out in my mind because it's the truth. I suppose I wonder if I stopped talking, if he'd never fill up that silence. If he would ever actually ask about me, if I stopped filling in the blanks on my own. Something tells me he wouldn't. Maybe because last night, all he did was stop me from drinking, then he rolled over and went to sleep. Maybe he's not ashamed of me because you actually have to have something to be ashamed of.