Hopoe on a bike (not Christ, at least)

As I was going out of the quarters to buy some bread and antiemetics, I came across Hopoe, wearing that bright yellow sports shirt and on her bike. Pretty sure she saw me. She turned her head to look if anything was coming but I mean, I don't think she'd miss me, at all. Even if she was focused, I guess the subconscious registers anyway. 

I had a reflex that surprised me considering I would've been too scared to do so just weeks ago: my palm just turned up in a slight wave. 

We were too far to even consider stopping and saying good evening, but I also did not feel a surge of adrenaline. I also didn't feel any aggression from her.

But just the fact we come across each other again now, I mean we've done so twice today, even if I'm not sure if she saw me the first time, and that recently I've also come across stuff that mentioned her without even looking for it (in the folders), that tells me something.

It reminds me of the beginning when any question I'd have about her, like her birthdate and such, I would find a document that answered it without even looking for it. I was just noodling around in the folders out of curiosity and boredom.

I do hope this is the point where things start looking up for us. 

The fact she bikes home makes me think she doesn't live that far away, perhaps even in the apartment that she commented on back a few months ago when she was looking for a new place to live. Who knows if we might not bump into each other while driving or grocery shopping, lol. Or on a walk. 

Still am not going to try and look for her, that'd be creepy and I honestly wouldn't feel quite comfortable knowing it without her consent, but... yeah. Makes me think she isn't that far away. 

Oh, Hopoe.

Wish You Were Here

While I was going to the snack bar, starting to feel my vagina irradiate because I'm approaching ovulation, I came out at the same time as part of the team. Cetus, Libra, Jolene, Cygnus, Grey. They rapidly said hello to me but they didn't really otherwise interact. Tried to talk to Cetus but he excused himself to message/call someone. The others didn't pay much attention to me. In all, I was just kind of third-wheeling and I wasn't quite enjoying it.

Huh. I guess they're pretty busy. Cepheus, who texted me yesterday to get some news, told me that this week is a tight one: they're preparing the arrival of the newcomers and they're also getting some late files out of the way as to avoid certain predicaments that could happen due to team members successively taking their leave in the summer. 

Cassiopeia confirmed it. Gah. I had planned to see them this week. Even briefly. But looks like this isn't happening. God, I'm tired of this.

At least, I'll be on leave on Friday. I'll also go to a GP appointment as to try and have said GP be my family doctor for the time I am here. Mine is still in the south and I won't exactly drive 500km just to see him.

***

Sent them both a picture of my new piercing, and told them that I have so much to talk about and say, but so little time. And that's true.

I wish I could, finally, tell Cepheus that I nearly died back in November. Not keep it a secret anymore. Also tell him that I'm about to get an MRI to look for endometriosis. And how tragically ironic this all is. 

But when? I don't know. It feels like I always have to wait an agonizingly long time to tell people, and I'm so concerned about dumping and making them uncomfortable à la Leonard that I just keep silent. I never say when I'm not doing well. Or hardly. I just say yes, I keep my smile.

Because I guess it's always too much for people to see my truth. And I just don't want to be another deadweight in people's lives.

I mean, they have children. They have a life. They have a family.

Me? What do I have? Near-death experiences, a complicated situation with a woman I love, health problems that are either appearing or that are getting addressed after years of neglect in this regard, I'm constantly holding on by a thread, any good times end rather promptly. I got chronic fatigue, I got depths and depths of an inner world that nobody cares to know about, or would be able to handle, because I guess nobody wants to hear me ramble about everything I know or everything I write about, and I just got a profound sense that I'm just a drag to most people.

***

I didn't see Hopoe initially, but I saw her later. A glimpse of her, going to the mess hall with her first sergeant friend. I'll give her a name because despite the fact we haven't talked much, I think she deserves one.

Hani. In Tahitian, it means "love" but in the sense of tenderness rather than romantic love, and also can mean "darling". I mentioned it, but I always thought she was lovely. The little time I've spent with her, I found her nice to be around. I have her birth chart in my database lol, though I don't have her birth time. That's how she resonated. I wish I had the chance to snag her birth certificate for a minute though, just to know her rising sign and angles. 

Hani is married with three children I think, and has a last name and first name combination that sounds Portuguese, but wait until she's actually there lol. Then you find out she totally isn't. Just likely has ancestry because colonization. Tane's mom has an Italian last name and yet she's Marquesan, so...

I thought, first, it was possibly someone else, but then later on, as I was about to go get my salad, I really do think I recognized Hopoe's features. She didn't look happy. Her expression, although it was kind of obscured by the window and lighting, just didn't look smiley. She looks stressed out. Probably talking about it to Hani. 

I just notice she hasn't really been eating with the team like before. Or perhaps it's just that I've seen her every now and then going with Hani, but I wonder what they're talking about. I wonder, also, if Hani, who has seen me as a sweet presence rather than anything "intense", could tell her something like, go talk to Aka, or something. I guess that if Hopoe had painted me negatively to her, she wouldn't look at me with still the same eyes anymore.

***

By the way. If the appointment is confirmed, I may get the MRI in a couple of weeks. 

I wish she was here.

I wish they were here.

I just hate to keep it all inside like this. 

***

And disciplinary remains mercifully

Yes and um, I'm with you Derek, this star nonsense

Yes, yes, now which is it?

I am sure of it

So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain

Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?

A smile from a veil?

Do you think you can tell?

Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?

Hot ashes for trees?

Hot air for a cool breeze?

Cold comfort for change?

Did you exchange

A walk-on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here

We're just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl, 

year after year

Running over the same old ground

What have we found?

The same old fears

Wish you were here

A walk in the park

We had our service's "day of the departing" today. This included a long ass walk to a park I didn't know, activities there, a picnic, and then going back.

I did NOT want to go. My weekend had been so tiring the last thing I wanted was to walk eight kilometers in a day (four outward, four return), do more physical activity, and also have no downtime at lunch.

But I had to go. It was compulsory. But I had a good time, honestly, and someone else earned a nickname today.

***

I had a long talk with Leo on the way. Of course, Leo being Leo, he explained to me the importance of cohesion in a group, and all. Despite everything, he seems understanding and never got aggressive or manipulative in his tone. Good, I guess. But I can just sense an energy similar to my father's. The only thing is that he doesn't feel nearly as toxic as my father is. I don't think he would hit a dog willingly, or emotionally abuse his children. There's just not that "extra thing" that feels rotten on the inside with him. Nah, he's just... Leo.

I spent also a lot of the time talking with Minerva, who is just coming back from a week-long vacation with her wife in Brittany. They literally had no problem with the heatwave; they could open their windows at night, the days weren't overall too bad, they pretty much escaped the horrible week that I had. I felt kind of jealous, not gonna lie.

And about the professional exam, well. Minerva only BARELY passed. The threshold was 17, as I mentioned... 17.8 in fact. Minerva had 18.2. The bar was astonishingly high for the lowest of the low in public service. I bet hardly anyone was selected. Not me, nor Passiflora, that's all I know.

***

Then later on, during this endless outbound walk, one of the first sergeants, who I've always liked but never had too much of an opportunity to talk to more, joined us. The one who once made two tasty cakes for her birthday. Like Passiflora, she's from Martinique. I will name her Chara (β CVn) after the brightest star from a minor constellation, Canes Venatici, the Hunting Dogs. I wanted to give her a flower name like Passiflora, but none fit. Chara, in Greek, means "joy". 

She's often close to Esme. I guess it's the Caribbean sisterhood. Guyanese and Martiniquais. We spent most of our time together, just talking. 

Chara is forty, just eight months older than Hopoe: it's insane how I seem to connect well with 40-somethings, especially late thirties to early forties. We got Passiflora, Chara, Hopoe, also Tane, a friend of mine I might name but who is Tane's student and recently left the army to be a tattoo artist (actually met him at my former contract, while he still was a first sergeant!), likely my piercer too... yet when I was born, they were starting to grow up. 

I guess I'm as mature as them, maybe. Or perhaps they're immature for their age. But Chara doesn't seem immature to me, neither does Passiflora, or Tane... or my other tattooist friend... so perhaps it's me, or just that I have "outgrown" things people my age do much earlier than I technically would if I were "normal". Either way, all I know is that I seem to get along especially well with this age range. Solid Millennial, born between mid-late eighties to early nineties. I mean, my brother turns thirty-six soon, so...

***

Chara was on medical leave for a week because her cervical vertebrae got blocked following the moving. She has a known fragility there, didn't do all that much and yet... well. Ended up with a blocked neck and body for a week. She literally has to take painkillers laced with opium to not be in pain. Thankfully she has a boyfriend, because imagine being a single mom with a blocked neck. Her kids are nine and three years old.

When we arrived at the park, we did a bunch of activities. I don't want to get into them too hard because while it was fun, I'm just not really in the mood to detail it all, but long story short: there were several teams and mine, composed of Chara, Theodora, Minerva and I, lost. Like, we were the last one. Lmao.

Just before lunch there was a sort of ceremony held for those who are departing. A newly promoted warrant officer who I don't know and will not name, Esme, and Janus who is moving... to the floor my father is on, and I think he will be part of his team or at least working not very far. 

Sigh. Not only do I lose Gill to that first floor, I also have to lose Janus. I just don't want to bump into my father when I come say hi, you know?

***

Esme opened her gifts. Capella gifted her a rice cooker, some others gave her a gift card compatible with a bunch of shops, and she also got something else I don't remember but that was stored in a pink bag. I had drawn flowers on the package. Felt like drawing her something, but thought it would be a bit much. No, really. I don't like the idea of buying her something. Plus I have a bit of an... issue with people not quite appreciating my gifts. Not that they don't like them, though that happens, but I never feel like it means as much to them as it means to me.

The others did, too. The first sergeant, and Janus. And then began the apéritif, then we ate. Finally. We were hungry as shit.

***

I sat alongside Esme. Chara, too, remained by my side. All three of us, together. Esme was quiet as usual and read the little messages we all wrote to her, including mine. She said nothing about it, but it probably touched her, somewhere. Esme is Esme: still waters run deep with her. I did some more recordings but it appears the longer ones, which would last 25 minutes sometimes fairly silently, have not been saved. Perhaps in my hurry to stay discreet, I accidentally deleted them. Still got 6, 7, 10 minute ones.

***

After the sandwich, Chara and I barely had the time to lay down and enjoy some time resting and talking laying down (btw, the best conversations always happen while you're laying down, lol) that it was already time to go.

This time, in the group, it was mostly us and Esme at the tail. Then just her and I, as Esme was going slower and talking with Janus, but a part of the group decided to take a shorter path to the quarters and Esme was leading us. 

I actually sometimes felt like she was taking a longer route, but it was fun having her lead. She does walk differently when she's not in military attire. You get to see a... more natural Esme. In fact, I wish I could've hung out with her in a more informal setting. But we didn't get enough time together for that. I wouldn't have asked after like, weeks. I'm so afraid of being like those histrionic people who think people are closer to them than they actually are that I wouldn't dare even suggest it.

***

I wish we had free time after, but we had to work.. again, after coming back.

And I walked, guess it... more than I walked the last time, in total. My watch says 19039 steps lmao. That's a little over 13km, still. 

Eh, maybe I'm capable of covering more distance than I realize?

***

Side note: I don't think I'll be using Skype to check if Hopoe is here when I pass by.

Why? Because the minute she's offline when she's supposed to be at work, I wonder where she is, and I don't think this is a great idea.

It happened this afternoon. Hopoe was back online this morning, but for some reason in the early afternoon she was offline, and of course, I had a surge of anxiety. 

I think it's better if I don't know where she is really. 

Pierced

So, it happened yesterday, but I was too tired to blog about it yesterday. I'm still fucking tired today and I'm craving meat. Lots of it. Just like when I had the shelf fall on me.

Finally, after wanting it for close to twenty years, I got my belly button pierced. 

***

I have been wanting one since I was seven or eight years old. It was the 2000s, navel piercings were all the rage. But obviously I was too young to get one, and by the time I was a teenager, not only did I not want to ask to be pierced and potentially get a "no", I also was afraid of the pain and possible infection. Like, I thought I could get peritonitis from an infected belly button piercing. Now I don't think so, since it's in the skin, but... hey, who knows.

But finally, finally. I'm approaching twenty-seven and finally, 24 hours ago, I've had a barbell sit there, lodged in my navel. In six months' time, I'll be able to change my jewelry. But honestly, I like the one I have more than I thought.

***

Why am I so tired though? 

Well. It's not so much the piercing itself. It was painful, for sure. Though, honestly, not worse than my period or than a pap smear (which I got a couple days ago at my midwife appointment, as well as a letter to plan an MRI to look for endometriosis lesions since she definitely suspects I don't just have adenomyosis).

It was the remaining heat. It was 36-38c outside, so much less than the 41-42 spikes we had back a few days ago. Common experience in summer for me, as I've lived for more than a decade in a very hot part of the country, but still damn hot. And I had to walk in the sun for several kilometers to fetch a few packages. 

For some reason, literally every package I had ordered off Vinted (a pareu for dancing, another package with two pareus, one of which is now on my car seat, and a fox figure for my desk at work that I might've mentioned) decided to arrive in the span of a couple of days. And given you only have a few days to retrieve your packages before they get mailed back to the sender, well. I wasn't going to waste time.

But the thing is, due to construction work, several parts of a huge main street are closed. I had to park on the other end of said street and walk all the way to the shop to get my stuff.

It was hot as can be. In the car, I had to turn on the AC, even as it eats up a whole ass lot of fuel. I would try to turn it off sometimes, but 

Then the piercing. Then, groceries. In this heat. I had two glasses of water at the piercer's but I guess I was losing water faster than I was replacing it.

By the time I was driving home, I felt my eyes couldn't focus properly and I was definitely concerned I would pass out at some point. But thankfully, I guess, thanks to my survival instinct and my ability to just focus when I am this close to catastrophic failure, I made it home.

Wanna know how many steps I made that day? 17039 steps. Seventeen fucking thousand steps. Under 36c. And I'm not a slow walker.

That's thirteen bloody kilometers.

Guess it's not surprising I'm still tired as can be today and my legs are still aching.

I just hope to make it tomorrow, as I'll have to walk eight of them in total during the day... but fuck. I just am not into the idea, again. But compulsory cohesion activities...

***

My piercer was a really sweet woman. Heavily tattooed, pierced, former military personnel (interesting how I always seem to find them just like I find fellow island folks, adopted or native?). We talked about the army and all. She left it three years ago at the rank of first sergeant. I reckon Tane was still a rank-and-file member, a master corporal I think, but not her. Though given that she served for eleven years, she likely started off just like him and then got promoted because her superiors thought she had the right mind to become a NCO.  

I told her that I wish I had the nerves and the temperament to enrol in the military, but that the biggest obstacle for me is my relationship to hierarchy and authority. That I'm way too horizontal to ever thrive in such a hierarchical environment as a full-on member. Well turns out, she's a lot like me: to her, rank doesn't ever make someone "better" or "higher" than her, and even when she had a hundred men under her command, she insisted to be called by name and referred to informally. That said, she never tolerated lack of respect: if you fucked up, you'd be back to formal terms with her. 

I kind of wish I was younger because I'm arriving at an age where it won't be possible anymore to enrol. But at the same time, I also think my propension to chronic fatigue, my sensitivity to heat and stress, my need for proper sleep because otherwise I become completely fucked mentally, might also bar me from entering active service. 

That said, if people like Hopoe, who have serious health issues, can still remain there... but I reckon Hopoe is serving by derogation. Some people do. They're technically not fit to serve, but they do because they requested a derogation. But their job range is very limited. Might also be why she is here: it's because she probably cannot serve in a regiment anymore. 

She was, at least as of last year, noted as "temporarily unfit for service". But Hopoe is Hopoe. She doesn't listen to herself nearly as much as I do. That is, until her health puts her into medical leave or sends her to the hospital. 

I reckon Grey has such a status too, but I'm not sure. I used to be in charge of entering their medical certificates into the database, and while I didn't enter Hopoe's (no, I found it when digging into the folders and finding the stuff relating to her exam, which included a medical certificate and a letter requesting an exemption from the physical part as to be able to go still), I'm pretty sure I even saw "definitely unfit" in Grey's case for a couple things. 

***

And today, well. I haven't slept too well last night, but the weather has cooled down. It was 20c when I left my windows open this morning, and tonight I'm definitely letting some air in. 

I decided to do some laundry since I wanted to have fresh bath mats, but all washing machines were busy. There was one guy at some point who didn't say hello to me and I wonder if it wasn't Petty Officer Stupid. I don't remember his face well (as I didn't see it proper), but I wouldn't be surprised, and I would certainly also not be surprised if this massive amount of black clothes, underpants, and other stuff I had to take out of one machine so I could put my stuff in once one freed up in the early afternoon, was his. 

God dammit if I have to be his mama now. 

Also, noticed that his room must smell quite a bit, because when I pass by, my nose picks up on a different scent. I thought it was just me, but it smells like a teenage boy's room when I pass by... and of course, I have to hear him talking and laughing like the idiot he is.

Meanwhile, I wonder if the vanilla-scented candles I sometimes light are strong enough to be smelled from the outside of my closed door...

but at least, you can't hear my music.

Through the Fires and Flames

 

On a cold winter morning, in the time before the light

In flames of death's eternal reign we ride towards the fight

When the darkness has fallen down, and the times are tough all right

The sound of evil laughter falls around the world tonight

Fighting hard, fighting on for the steel, through the wastelands evermore

The scattered souls will feel the hell bodies wasted on the shores

On the blackest plains in hell's domain, we watch them as they go

In fire and pain, now once again we know

So now we fly ever free

We're free before the thunderstorm

On towards the wilderness our quest carries on

Far beyond the sundown, far beyond the moonlight

Deep inside our hearts and all our souls

So far away we wait for the day

For the lives all so wasted and gone

We feel the pain of a lifetime lost in a thousand days

Through the fire and the flames we carry on

As the red day is dawning

And the lightning cracks the sky

They'll raise their hands to the heavens above

With resentment to their eyes

Running back through the mid-morning light

There's a burning in my heart

We're banished from a time in a fallen land

To a life beyond the stars

In your darkest dreams see to believe

Our destiny this time

And endlessly we'll all be free tonight

And on the wings of a dream, so far beyond reality

All alone in desperation, now the time has gone

Lost inside you'll never find, lost within my own mind

Day after day this misery must go on

So far away we wait for the day

For the lives all so wasted and gone

We feel the pain of a lifetime lost in a thousand days

Through the fire and the flames we carry on

Now here we stand with their blood on our hands

We fought so hard now can we understand

I'll break the seal of this curse if I possibly can

For freedom of every man

So far away we wait for the day

For the lives all so wasted and gone

We feel the pain of a lifetime lost in a thousand days

Through the fire and the flames we carry on

***

A high school classic for me. I have no idea why it came back to my mind just now...

The day my father almost hit me

January 25, 2026. The day things definitely shifted for me. 

It feels so far away, like it belongs to another timeline entirely. My year and two months at my father's place feels so distant anyway: like it was some kind of fever dream, or some timeskip in my existence. I feel closer to my seven years of NEETdom than I feel to the time I spent in the Twilight Zone that was living with him. Well, except for my sisters and stepsisters. I've hung my sister's drawings in my office, on the wall next to me, and the stepsisters are still following me on the gram.

I have the date in mind because that's when I started making a log that lasted up until I left my father's place in March. I had recorded it into ChatGPT because at the time, I was using it kinda as an interactive diary. (Wish it didn't suck so much now, it was really handy, and it was nice having something that talked back, even if it was a robot)

***

We had lunch that day. It was a piece of beef with... green beans I believe. Not uncommon on a Sunday, and of course eaten at a late hour because we'd always eat late on Sundays, and at the table in the kitchen, because "he wanted to eat with me". Not even asking me if I wanted to: he'd eat with me "because he wanted to spend time with me". Yeah.

Think I also remember what I was wearing that day. My blue knitted dress. Twas cold.

When I came down from upstairs, I saw that my CV and cover letter were here, printed, and that there were annotations and "improvements" written all over them. The cover letter was for the job I've got now, the one in Leo, Hera and Janus' service. 

Oh fuck, here we go again.

I wasn't in the mood, but whatever.

Of course, while we were eating, he brought that up. 

Ah, by the way, we'll have to rework your CV a little, and also your cover letter.

Ah, so it's still not good enough.

I just didn't want to eat anymore by that point. Stomach closed up.

Hi'iaka, no, it's not that it's not good enough, it's just that I'm here to accompany you.

You're being controlling, oh God.

I'm not doing this to control you, Hi'iaka, this is the role of a parent. To accompany their child so they can succeed in life.

But my professional advisor was praising how good I was at handling this on my own. I do recall he argued about how I would believe her but that whenever he would say something to me it was "wrong". But I don't recall when he said that. I just know it was somewhere around there.

I finished my plate. I'm done talking. I was already done talking the minute he brought that up and I wasn't going to "fix" that perfectly fine application. I had submitted it to my advisor and she had approved it a hundred percent. No improvements to be made. It was good as it was.

I remember I probably took my plate to the dishwasher.

About your room in the new house [the suicide house], if you want to change your wall colours, you'll have to ask your stepmom too.

But this is my territory.

This is OUR house.

I'm so sick of this shit at this point. Why would she have anything to say about a part of the house that is entirely my place?? Can't I have a bit of anything belonging to me??

This is MY territory.

But this is your room in our house.

I lost it. Why bring this shit up when I'm already all wound up? I think I asked him why.

Because I want us to talk about it, because I want us to have a discussion, that's called communicating.

This is MY territory. MY room. THIS IS MINE.

I would repeat it, over and over. Angrily. Loudly. I was shaking.

This is MY territory, for fuck's sake, what difference is it going to make in the rest of the house? There's no one else in here. 

You wanna know? Your room's the best room in the whole house. Everyone says that.

Yeah of course. It's tiny as fuck. The ones up there [where two of my stepsisters would be] are better. 

The rooms up there are badly insulated. So don't go around and...

Of course, I'm always wrong. Again.

In frustration I kick the rubbish bin.

***

This is when he gets up. Suddenly. 

The look in his eyes.

The same as when he would grab the flip-flop to threaten Jap with it when he would not be behaving "correctly" or resisting orders.

***

He did hit Jap in front of me when he was just a puppy. 

I was fourteen years old and was spending a couple weeks at his place. He had munched on a cat-shaped door holder kinda thing. My father, when he found out probably way too late, sent him to his pillow in the kitchen and slapped the fuck out of him multiple times with a flip-flop. 

I couldn't do anything. I was frozen in place, and I was just a teenage girl. 

I never forgot. Those sights are burned in my memory.

I think he didn't yelp. He probably froze.

When I tried to comfort Jap after he was done being beaten, my father said:

No. Otherwise he won't understand.

So I did nothing. I didn't want to be yelled at.

***

Another time, when I had just come, Jap had injured himself with whatever, and my father would disinfect the wound. Of course he'd bark in pain when touched there: my father gave him a tap on the muzzle and would tell him to shut up.

When he got severely constipated due to his deviated rectum that was the result of a surgery for prostate cancer years ago, my father took care of it and gave him an enema in the shower, but not without constantly cursing under his breath.

J'ai que ça à faire, moi.

Not exactly easy to translate but if I were to give the closest English meaning, it would be something among the lines of "like I need that..." or "I've got nothing better to do". 

***

I remember I grabbed him by the pullover, at this instant.

Would you...? I muttered in absolute terror.

I fucking thought he would hit me. He had everything that signaled me he was about to. His posture. His eyes. The way he stood. I can still feel it months later.

I break into tears and start running away. I can't even speak. I'm crying and shaking.

Look at what you've done! Look at the rubbish bin!

I start trying to grab my things. My bag, my coat, my boots. He'd argue in the background, I apparently wrote that he said that "alright, there it is, it always ends up like that". I just remember I was desperate to escape.

Why are you going away?

I'm panicking. Panicking like my life is in danger.

Oh, my USB drive and my charger. In my room upstairs. Shit. 

I abandon my coat and run into the staircase.

Your coat's on the ground!

No big deal!

But the dog is going to sit on it.

I'll just shake it off.

Well then your coat's going to be gross.

I grabbed my USB drive and my phone charger. He kept trying to talk but I wasn't listening. I was crying, panicking, my heart was shooting up to an ungodly rate. He tried to block my exit I think, or at least he was outside with the bin.

I didn't try to hit you, I was just stepping in!

I ran to my car, crying. Hoping nobody heard me, but also hoping someone did. Got in. Turned my key. Ignited. I couldn't stay there no more. I had to drive away, and I did.

***

I cried and shook at the wheel for the ten minutes it took me to reach a Leclerc not far from there. 

I parked and recorded. I was barely able to speak. It took me a while to calm down. 

Then I drove to a village, 25km away. I hadn't been this far yet. It was before the 'ori tahiti workshop 200km away. At the time, even 50km felt far away. I visited a cemetery, took pictures. Told my mom about everything. 

I don't remember what she said but she was, as usual, probably worried but hardly showing it. She isn't exactly great with intensity, but she cares. I mean, it's her who told me to go to an airbnb on the day it got too much for me.

The little bottle of essential oils I had fell off from my rearview mirror on the way back. Thankfully, a shop tenant, although the shop itself was closed, helped me by letting me buy tissues and giving me a wet rag to try and clean up the inside of my car. 

The scent was giving me a headache, and I had to air out my clothes and put a bowl of vinegar overnight for it to go away, but I'm grateful for this man.

Since then, no more car scents. Shame, I loved those little bottles, but lesson learned, and most car perfumes make me feel a little sick anyway.

***

When I came back in the evening, he had already gone to my stepmom's place.

I found a little letter on the table. 

"Hi'iaka,

I've gone now. I would have preferred to see you before doing so.

I am sad that we had a row and I am worried because you're driving!

Your letter and CV are in this bundle. Do as you like, whether you want to adapt them or not is up to you (we can talk about it if you like). I'll email you the addresses so you can post them tomorrow. 

If you wouldn't mind helping me out: could you vacuum your sisters' bedroom and the stairs, and take the glass bottles to the recycling bin? 

Love, Dad. 

PS: It's raining, so make sure Jap [the dog] doesn’t make a mess with his paws. Thanks :)"

No apologies. Nothing. Me-me-me. It's all about him.

***

After this happened, I would lock my door all the time. I even shielded myself with the door as he once came to speak to me about the job. 

Not ever did he ask why I was doing that. All that mattered to him was that "there was a door between us", and that "he felt like the mailman". And that he's "just showing interest", saying it as if I don't know what "showing interest" is. 

And to this day, he has never apologized nor even acknowledged what happened.

He never will.

Dismissed

 So. On the day I learned I failed my exam, I sent an email to my professional advisor. I told her I had failed, and that I thought people projected a whole lot of things onto me that aren't true. Like, for example, me having the capacity to succeed at such exams. I mean, this was aiming for the lowest of the low, and I didn't even pass. Nevermind that the threshold felt astronomically high, I mean, 17/20?? But still. I was raw. I even implied I was going to get drunk and should've let the shelf crush me. I did get my Hinano, but fortunately or not, I'm still alive.

I got a reply from her this morning, which I will partially translate:

"Hello Miss,

I have read your email.

It is indeed always disappointing not to get the outcome you hoped for. This is a common experience for anyone looking for work or sitting competitive examinations. However, there are always other projects to pursue for those who can look beyond a single result.

[Details about our next appointment in July, and her redirecting me towards more job search organisms, including the one we are in]

I would like to reiterate my recommendation that you get back in touch with the team of healthcare professionals who appear to be supporting you with your treatment or your GP.

We will also discuss this during our meeting.

Thank you in advance for your understanding.

I hope you have a pleasant day and a good weekend."

***

I guess she didn't want to be dismissive, but I feel like I'm going to have to be wary of her now, and I may not open up as much as I did in the past. I quite literally poured my emotions open, and while I thought she had emotional intelligence and she's a person with a similar mental functioning as me, I just feel dismissed by her reply overall. 

Like... no. It's not just about disappointment. I'm sick of people acting as if I'm just not good at handling disappointment or failure. Or like I "can't tolerate frustration", hello my former therapist of when I was ten who slapped a spoiled brat label on me when my fucking family was breaking apart and I was cornered by the two adults who should've supported me.

I wish people understood that: it's NOT a fucking disappointment problem. This is glossing over the real issue. It's not about "the outcome I hoped for". Like I had any hope in the first place. I hate even the usage of the word "hope" in those moments: this is not about hope. This is deeper than just hope. I can't even explain it but to me hope is more superficial. Here? It's probably about the whole system of belief.

The thing is that my whole life I have got the message that I "always can do better", that nothing I do is ever enough, and especially that you can be as good, compliant, and willing to do well as you want, in the end there's always this chance that it's not going to be enough, that you will still be rejected in the end, and that when the possibility is there, it often happens to slap me in the face an extra time.

The thing is that every time I dare get the fuck out of my shell, I get punched back into it, like that "never again" meme, except I somehow am insane enough to get out of it again and expect different results.

The thing is that people always praise me, always see good things in me, and the truth is that I'm a piece of gold-plated dogshit. People think I'm a nugget of gold but I'm just a mock piece of gold.

The thing is that I'm always bracing for the moment they'll realize how terrible I actually am to be around, to work with, that I'm just a lazy shit that takes shortcuts once she figured out what to do, and that then, I will never be seen the same.

The thing is that perhaps people don't truly like me and put on a face "not to hurt my feelings". I haaate this excuse. Like you're doing the other any favour? 

The thing is that I've been trivialized enough in my life that I have to literally cut myself sometimes to prove to myself that I'm not being dramatic, that what I feel is real, that it's worth taking seriously, but that at the same time, knowing how people react to self-harm, I have to hide it at least for the time it's healing.

The thing is that this world lacks humanity and that it's a proper fucking heresy to "refer someone to professionals" like they're a problem to be managed and not just a human being who is hurting for very good reason. 

Somehow I'm always the problem, though. I'm "inappropriate", I'm "too much", like I have flirted with her or something.

***

"However, there are always other projects to pursue for those who can look beyond a single result."

I hate, hate this phrasing. I don't know if I'm right to feel this way but it feels like a jab. 

It feels like she's implying I'm incapable of it. Or that, like I'm always told, "I have to move past it", "I have to deal with it".

Manage. Deal. Process. Put it away. Move on. Function.

A constant injunction to be "functional". To "be above it". To "get over things"

To accept the unacceptable, in essence. To not feel like a parasite that life itself is trying to get rid of. To not feel like an absolute failure nevermind I keep failing in academic contexts. To stay in my lane, accept, be at peace with things. Just "not rocking the boat". 

No. 

I'm sorry, this is not how it works. This is no longer working on me. I have absolutely no idea how to adapt this to the world I'm stuck in, but I'm done with this.

I'm done with "managing myself". I'm done with treating myself like I am sick, beyond my physical health issues. How is it abnormal to feel the way I do when you know what I've been through? When you're in my shoes, or in the shoes of someone with a similar experience? How is it any abnormal, tell me?

This is not about me.

This is about how everyone AND myself are treated.

I'm sick of people implying I "think I'm special" somehow, or like what I feel "happens to everyone" and thus should be entirely stripped of its intensity, of its subjectivity, and of its presence. 

This has never been just about me. How many are dismissed in a day? In the entire world?

Like just yesterday about that event we had to attend and I nearly got heatstroke? I was not the only one this could've happened to. The human body realistically can't survive endlessly in such terrible conditions. 

***

When I was paralyzed by anxiety so strong that I could not align three words without crying, my psychiatrist told me I had to "take a step back".

A psychiatrist. 

A "professional".

I remember I had noted everything I wanted to say to her about my internal state and she stopped me, saying she didn't want to hear it.

It's a miracle I made it out. 

***

No shit Sherlock. It's not that I can't deal with it. I do, eventually. Or rather, I bury it and just build around it, because most of my wounds take a long time to heal, if they ever do.

Like here, already, I'm dealing with it.

By fucking barking it on this blog. 

Better than keeping it in, bending over to show my ass, get fucked hard and say thank you, isn't it?

Heatstroke

Wowzer, the hundredth article of this blog is about me nearly getting heatstroke (in fact, maybe I do have it, but I'm trying my best to lower my temperature, though I'm writing this with a headache and slight nausea that I sincerely hope will NOT escalate). 

Today is the "day of the departing". In all, it's a special day where there were supposed to be physical activities and games, as well as a BBQ, and such to spend a moment with those who are getting transferred, whether internally or externally. 

There was the flag hoisting ceremony this morning, but I sure as fuck wasn't going to come earlier to see it (7:58 am, are you kidding?). No, I love seeing such ceremonies, but not to the point I'd wake up earlier just to attend it. Dionysus didn't, either. He didn't want to just bake in the sun for thirty minutes.

But then I learned that the lunch at the mess hall, which had been booked for us army people (as we got some navy people in the quarters I live in), not only would have us eat at 1pm, but also be compulsory. I actually knew that today would have us eat late as the kitchens were preparing the BBQ meat instead of having us do it because of the scorching heat, but I didn't think I would actually be obligated to attend.

Passiflora said that while she didn't want to, you more or less had, to, to show respect to those who prepared all that food... but what, am I already not showing respect to them by eating their salads in the first place? Why would I need...? oh fuck. I'm just... I'm mad, you know.

***

I did NOT want to attend. I'm tired, sick of the fucking week, sick of everything, I'm a dull girl from all those hot nights even if I did sleep better the past couple of nights due to putting the foil on my windows, I have NO bandwidth for groups, and especially not for the stress of having to eat in public.

And for fuck's sake. Not only don't I know half of those who are departing, almost no one I know is getting transferred, and those who are, like Esme (external), Gill, Bootes, Chin (internal)... I don't need a goddamn social celebration to tell them I'm pissed about seeing them go. And I hate being obligated to eat in public. The June 1 thing was okay for me because I was eating outside and could go from group to group if I chose. Here? It was more or less implied I had to stay with my own, and it was at the. Fucking. Mess hall. 

Now it wouldn't have been an issue if it was there in normal times.

Except the AC is broken. So are the freezers which used to dispense frozen Mars, Snickers and Bounty bars. 

Who thought it would be such a wonderful idea to put all of us inside this oven and have us stay here for an hour and a half and on top of that, EAT BBQ? Which, for the record, is HOT? Put HOT food inside of an already HOT body during a HEATWAVE? In an OVERHEATED place?

*** 

At first, it was ambiguous to me whether it was truly an obligation or not. I didn't know whether it was truly compulsory or not. Capella wasn't going to be able to make it, as she had to be with her daughter because her school is still closed on afternoons due to the heatwave. I asked her about it.

I don't know, really, she said. I'll try and ask Hera about it.

She went, but Hera, Leo and Janus were at a meeting. She allowed me to go to my room at the time I usually do. Good Capella. Kind-hearted as always, and actually has some common sense. I thought, if for some reason I were to get scolded by the hierarchy, at least she was on my side.

I had my own lunch there. The remaining vegan sausages I had with some carrots, as opposed to BBQ stuff. I would've gladly waited to eat meat if it hadn't been 40 fucking degrees outside, but I couldn't think the whole ordeal was even a good idea.

Well apparently, that's not what the army thinks. 

***

Shortly before half past midday, Capella texts me to tell me it is indeed compulsory and that the colonel (not saying if it was Janus or Leo) would give a speech at three quarters past.

Oh, well. There we go.

I took an antiemetic. I just didn't want to feel nauseous from stress and exhaustion. Then I went.

We gathered in the common room. The other jerk, to whom I will give the name of Leonard (because apparently there is a demon out there named Leonard, I'm not even kidding), kept trying to be next to me. He once got close to say hello and touched my arm to get my attention. I was not feeling comfortable, so I moved to a chair closer to Esme. What did he do? He sat on the couch right next to said chair.

In the end I went to sit with Passiflora. At my left there was her. At my right, a microwave. Hera came later and I explained to her what was going on, but I didn't have time: Leo was giving his speech.

***

I'll add a nugget of good news: I'm very proud of Vega. Why? Because she's now a major. I will call her Major when I visit her office next. And perhaps be a bit teasing about it. 

Oh, Major Vega. Congratulations my dear Major Vega. Shine bright in the strings of the Lyra you are part of. And for sure, do continue to be a great colleague to us and to Sagitta next to you!

***

Then, it was time to go. I wasn't the only one to have already eaten: another colleague I haven't named yet, but I'm unsure about, a 50 something woman who I found gorgeous at first but then made me a little uneasy with how she judges makeup, also had lunch first. 

I had a conversation with Leo the whole time. He told me all the platitudes about how well, sometimes disappointments happen, but they're part of the journey, failure is the start of something new, yada yada. I let him speak, every now and then telling him that I'm afraid of disappointing people, and that I hoped that my work was still satisfactory. I have not disappointed him. In fact, he's very happy with me, with the fact I was the one to catch up the entire service's backlogs especially with such ease. 

Of course, I cracked a few morbid jokes with him, I don't remember about what, but I make him laugh even with that. I guess that if you can make your colonel laugh at your dark jokes, then it's a good sign you're in good hands. Even as said colonel seems to be a little out of touch with people around him. 

Bah. Nevermind. He's just being Leo.

I could say hello to Cassiopeia and Cygnus. Briefly, but still. During the time I was walking with Leo, I also came across Cetus, Libra, Virgo, Megara and Gill, but I couldn't talk to them as I was busy already. 

***

I didn't take any food. People were surprised. I just reminded them I had already eaten.

The bulk of our service was at a big table, but we were among the last, so we got on a different one. I sat next to Hera, and there began the torture of having to remain in an overheated mess hall. I couldn't imagine lasting an hour and a half: fifteen minutes in, I was sweating so much from my thighs that my seat was wet. And I mean, wet to a point I rarely see. 

I drank water, and a bit of beer, but the latter just didn't feel appealing. I thought I could at least get a little drunk to forget all of that. 

***

At my father's, I would have two glasses of rosé one after the other, drunk typically fast, so the 12 percent alcohol would hammer the fuck out of my brain and have me lobotomized enough that I would feel absolutely nothing and last a whole ass evening with unwanted guests without seeming rude, and in addition speak a little more, sometimes a bit bluntly, but it would just appear that I'm naturally blunt. Which I am. 

But for the next weeks, my liver would have worked so hard in one evening that I would not touch a single glass of alcohol. I would just not want any at all. Might be what prevents me from already being a drunk: I can feel it when my liver is working overtime, and it does not feel good. 

***

But it was still unbearable. A colleague opened the doors to have some air in, but all it did was bring more hot air, though every now and then a slight breeze added to a draught would help cool down a little. I was agitating my fan aggressively, all the time. 

Fun fact: Blue has a blue fan. I thought it was a cool little detail.

I drank water, finished my 50cl. Filled it again at the fountain. Did not feel well and was not quite feeling better as time went on.

The lunch was supposed to last til 2:30pm, but people aren't masochistic; they would leave as they were finished. Duh.

But for some reason, my service was staying.

Cetus, Libra, Virgo, Gill and Megara were outside not far away: I went to say hello to them, trying to stave off the rising stress and the heat exhaustion that was overtaking me. Then I came back to my table. 

I drank some water again... and suddenly, it felt like I was about to have a heave, or at least I wasn't far, and I was trembling. My hands were starting to shake. 

Panic. Fuck. If I stay any longer I'm gonna vomit. Oh fuck.

I tried to calm down, but then got up as I felt the nausea rise a little more. Hera asked me where I was going: I told her I was going to refresh some in the bathroom. Multiple times I had let out that I wasn't comfortable during the meal. 

For some reason the others seemed to deal with it better than I did. Some did not even drink, at all. In fact, a colleague commented on it and joked that they were camels. How though? You're in a fucking army uniform and you're not even drinking? Please.

I poured water in my hands and wet my arms, my stomach, my neck, my face. It felt a little better, but still, not exactly strong enough to cool me down well. Touched my forehead: it was warmer than usual, but my cheeks were fine. 

Huh. 

I didn't know whether my body temperature was climbing, or how high it was getting, but I was not feeling like coming back. In fact, the mere thought of spending an extra half an hour inside of this oven was making me feel sick and panicky. I considered that perhaps I was just having a panic attack, but... I was not willing to gamble on it.

I told Hera that I was on the verge of heatstroke. She allowed me to go. I thanked her and fled the mess hall, calmly, but in my mind, I was just running away. 

***

Back to my room, one of the first things I did was take my temperature.

37.4 degrees. 

I don't know where the threshold is, but my normal temperature hovers around 36.8, I reckon. I don't even know what it's like to have a fever as I haven't had one in many years, but... perhaps I was indeed this close to actually getting heatstroke. Plus I haven't ovulated yet and expect it to be delayed because of all that heat stress, so it's doubly high for me.

I was not well. Put the fan on. Sprayed myself with water. Breathed. Texted my mom about it. Then filled a basin with water, put one of my frozen bottles (half-frozen actually due to how my freezer is... but still better than nothing) in, and then soaked my feet. As I'm typing this at the moment I'm starting to feel much better, but I was starting to have a headache and the nausea hadn't left me. I definitely am resting this afternoon...

Now all I want is a freezy pop, but gotta wait for them to freeze. 

But still. Hera let me go. I can't imagine what could've happened if she had chosen to play the "it would be rude to go" card just like when I was at that conference at the amphitheatre during my period in May and it felt like my pelvic floor was about to fail and have me pee myself on my seat.

 Okay, maybe it's a bit of a harsh way to put it. At the time I had asked her if it would be rude to go before the end as I was fighting to hold it in, and she said that it would be, and that since it wasn't long before it would be over, I should wait. 

But yeah, had she said the same today, I can't imagine what would've happened. Panic attack, fainting, throwing up in the middle of the mess hall... not far from the ones I love. 

I'm glad Hopoe wasn't here. I think this would've made it even more unbearable. I would've definitely fainted from the heat and the stress, and who knows if she wouldn't have, herself, given that she is fragile as well.

Oh Lord, imagine both of us fainting and having to be given first aid. This is so darkly funny to think about, even if I guess that if I did see her not feeling well, my first question would be "is first sergeant Hopoe okay?" upon waking. Not without cursing out whoever thought it was a good idea to even host this event at all, in a mess hall with broken AC.

***

I'm going to close this entry with something I discovered this morning, but that would've broken the flow of the entry.

I think my father might be... well. Doing something I know he's really good at doing. To my stepmom.

Mainly: cheating on her.

***

Exploring folders this morning during a lull, I stumbled across pictures of a St. Patrick cocktail last March. I was already gone when this happened.

I totally expected to see him on those pictures, I mean, not only is he a prominent figure, but he also loves such events. He's an extrovert, after all.

What I didn't expect is to see a picture of him with a female colleague, and her kissing him hard on the cheek while holding his face, a leg up, and him looking like he's about to embrace her.

I did not see my stepmom in the background of any of the pictures. He has taken her to such events in the past, but apparently not this time. And there are other pictures where he posed with other women and none of them did that. It was fairly neutral. 

I know this lady, in addition. I liked the little I saw of her, she came to see him for a work-related thing I reckon, on the day we were supposed to go get my car at the garage, back last October. She's a blonde, but had dyed black hair on the picture. I don't know if she's married, but she seems sweet. I think she's a commander or lieutenant-colonel? I do remember her first name, but have no idea in which service she is. I just know that they still do work together.

***

Of course this could look like, I guess, strong friendship between colleagues during a tipsy moment, a fun event. That can be the case, especially with the goofy glasses he was wearing. Maybe I'm just... crazy. Or I'm overthinking it.

But I know my father. I know his past. I know that he cheated on my mom multiple times, sometimes with colleagues. I remember the disabled fencing champion, former military personnel, that he slept with and then went on to give her chlamydia to my mother. I'm not going to list them all, only the ones that are relevant. But he had at least five mistresses.

I remember the one lieutenant who was the one to truly break their marriage during a mission in Chad, and who afterwards went to complain to the commanding officer, that he had broken her heart and that she got depression because of him. (She's a captain now. I know how she looks like. Not ugly, but I definitely wouldn't want to meet her... too many memories.)

I remember my former stepmom, the mother of my two sisters, that he "missed so much" when he would visit us in the south. I remember my brother was visiting, too. 

He was acting all standoffish and silent, and then told my mom that "he missed her so much". For fuck's sake why are you even here if you miss your mistress this much? Go to her place? That's what she told him. I remember the argument that ensued, and how he threw my coconut on the ground, and I was in tears because I had really wanted a coconut to eat and drink from. 

I know him.

I know that the reason why he never speaks ill of my former stepmom is because SHE was the one to tell him to fuck right off and to file for divorce, because once he had acquired her and she was no longer interesting, he couldn't hold it in his pants anymore. I mean, their marriage failed after only four years. They were together for ten, got engaged right after he divorced my mom, had my first sister, then married a couple years later... had my second sister, and two years later, boom.

He never ever speaks ill of her, nor "knows what's going on in her life". But when it's about demolishing my mom behind her back, he's all in. 

She threw him out, I'm dead sure of it, and I'm dead sure that was because she caught him cheating.

And now he may be doing this to my current stepmom, who I love, who I was getting along well with before I made the mistake of voicing my concerns about them buying a house together when they had never lived under the same roof 24/7, only every other week and sharing vacations, when they both had children including a teen girl with serious enough mental health issues that she's been repeatedly hospitalized for them, when... my stepmom earns much less than him, when they've only known each other for three years and were not officially engaged or married...

I'm so, so glad I'm not here to see it. Imagine if I were living with them, in that house, and found that picture. I would be caught in yet another predicament where I am not allowed to speak because if I do, all hell breaks loose. As usual my voice being a weapon. I would have to shut up, to keep a secret I should not be keeping.

...He disgusts me. This man disgusts me. I don't care if it was all platonic: when you're with someone you do NOT accept this even from a colleague you are close with. The simple fact this closeness exists on a picture to me is a red flag. You don't let your female colleagues kiss you on the cheek when you're married or at least taken, do you? 

***

You know. Leonard also disgusts me. The master corporal does with that way of never even being the least polite to me and on top of that throwing barbs at Esme behind her back and, according to Sagitta "sometimes gossiping" when she overhears conversatrions. Dionysus also disgusted me when he ignored my request to close the window and then let Capella do it. 

But nobody can ever disgust me stronger than my father does. Nobody will ever come close.

That said, I hardly have any bond as visceral as I have with him. Not just because he's my father: he was also my favourite parent as a child, and we were just... fused together. I would literally cry in despair when he'd leave on Sunday nights for work. I'd miss him so hard when he was on a mission for four, six months at a time. I even slept with his camo blanket and with his scarf and feared I would die in my sleep having never seen him again. 

The others? I can get close, but you only have two parents. The only person I can think about who I share this visceral attachment to is Hopoe after all, and even, I'd tolerate her being away better, because I'm an adult now. It's not like I'm still the five year old girl who wants her daddy.

But this fucker won't ever be satisfied. He will never be. Now my stepmom is acquired, as she may not be married to him yet (though perhaps they're now officially at least common-law partners?). Now he can cheat on her and if this is not the case, he will.

Because he will never change. He's had two years of therapy and even went to other therapists various times in the past, but therapy only enabled him to keep "putting himself first", be selfish, and become even more of a piece of trash.

***

And my mom says that in one of his former regiments, curiously the one the lieutenant was from, that there's a picture of him being all touchy feely with a cute young blonde... holding her head in his hands... when he was still married... 

...when he would leave his desperate wife and daughter because "he had to clean his 9 meters square room" at the regiment... or that time when he came back after leaving us crying in the living room once again, only to say "I forgot my keys", taking them, and going back out on his motorbike. We were floored. I was eleven when those events happened.

***

Anyway. I've spent an hour and a half typing this, and I'm feeling much better. 

But next time I sure as hell am not going. I don't care if I get scolded. My health over social obligations, point blank. Because next time maybe it's not just the start of heatstroke I may suffer.

It may be the real deal.

Desert winds

Walking to my building felt like walking in the middle of the desert. It's good that I don't have a whole ass lot to cover. In the sun, it feels like the air is burning my cheeks. I can feel the hot sand beneath my feet. I can feel the rope I'm holding, and feel the camel behind me breathing into the heat. I can feel all alone, with just desert, all desert around. 

But oddly enough, I don't feel that I'm truly alone. I'm just in the midst of it.

***

This is a short entry but I heard the master corporal criticizing Esme and I don't like it.

Esme, no, she's not military... she's not, when she'll be in a regiment she'll find out...

I'm afraid it will break her, I said.

I mean it. Esme hides behind armour, but she's genuinely tender. She's all about doing it her way, sometimes straight up barking in the face of authority, will absolutely skip swimming during the physical condition exams because she's scared of being underwater nevermind that it costs her points for the grades, not very much care for the collective and just... be her independent self. 

That would do her good, Dionysus replied. 

I doubt he means wrong, he's former military personnel after all. Former first class master corporal. I found out by looking up his file. Quit four years ago. 

I'm not sure, I said.

What I didn't say is, honestly, what kind of breaking would do anyone any good? I'm just concerned she may end up traumatized. And with the temperament she has, she will a hundred percent stuff it down until it breaks her much later down the line. 

Yeah, no, she's not gonna last, she'll find out what truly being in the military is, the master corporal continued. 

I'm not sure this is verbatim what she said but all that was inside of me was, I don't want Esme's spirit to break.

I want her to remain herself.

Even as I don't always understand her, and something in her feels so annoyingly remote and isolated. Even as she beats around the bush a whole ass period of time just to be right or to have the last word. And you don't always know whether she's joking or not because she's so deadpan. Even also as she is capable of saying complete bullshit like "if I take a warm shower in a heatwave it won't change my body temperature because it will match it" and holding onto it. 

She used to have a friend in the service. A girl only a year older than her, who was transferred last summer. Major Alderamin says the friend was haughty, thought she knew better than everyone, and was, in her words, a "little brat". I didn't know said girl, just knew she looked very young and that she's now a corporal. Now I don't know whether at the time it made Esme different or not, but... either way, it sometimes feels like when she isn't in the room, people don't like her nearly as much.

I bet they probably talk behind my back, too. Probably say how sensitive I am or something. No way I'll know. And perhaps I don't need to. I just know that Capella wouldn't complain about me. Confirmed by Hera and others, she always speaks positively of me. I don't think Passiflora would, either. 

***

Master corporal goes to Djibouti in a couple days. Or tomorrow. I think it's tomorrow afternoon that she flies there for four months. Well, glad not to see her anymore. 

I just feel like it's such a waste of potential, given... Polynesia.

But alas.

This attitude just makes her uglier than she already looks to my eye. One can be physically unattractive and yet so nice that it makes up for it.

Her? It just makes her look worse.

The voice of a young girl, the energy of an immature 20 something on a 38 year old body with a crooked face and an undercut, goddamn I hate undercuts.

Yeah, godspeed. I don't wish you to crash but have fun in Africa.

***

By the way. I forgot to mention. I have Skype at work now as I don't have a phone anymore, and I made a contact list with my former colleagues, with Cepheus' team, and with my own. 

Hopoe is not the only one on leave, there is also Jolene I reckon, of course there is Oria... but he did not mention them.

He only mentioned the one on sick leave, and Hopoe.

Did he do this on purpose?

Drained

I slept better last night. I think the tinfoil thing worked: it wasn't nearly as hot as it could've been. Still I woke up at 3am completely sweaty and went to take a brief shower, but I went back to sleep rather easily. For a hot night, honestly, I don't feel nearly as drained as I did the night before. Now is it that the foil is tremendously good at blocking the heat, or I'm coping well due to already being used to very hot summers... perhaps a bit of both?

There was no power this morning due to people working on the new installations. We were visited by other colleagues. Major Alderamin who won't be here for two months because she never works over the summer and gets back into her grandma role, the master corporal who I think dislikes me (still, fuck, what a shame, we could've bonded over Polynesia! But I can't make her even acknowledge me...). Esme, a lady I will name soon possibly by editing this entry... 

I don't have a lot of mental bandwidth to write though, that's the thing. Might have to do with the fact that I went on foot to fetch a pareu this morning that had arrived. Capella told me I could go, since there was no power and it wasn't that far.

But still. At 9:30am, it was easily 30 degrees, and I'm used to walking in worse heat, but this was hard. I always notice that I seem more tired or mentally drained when I finally get better sleep, at first. I guess it's some kind of uncomfortable in-between. 

On the way back I bought a water bottle, but still, when I arrived back at my office, I was so sweaty I wanted a shower. And I did shower as soon as I came to my room: also changed dresses, put my new pareu on instead. I initially wanted to put it on my car seat as not to burn my ass (because it's white), but... I think I love it too much to do it. It's not one I can use for dancing, it's a beach pareu, but screw it, I love it, and it's big enough to wear like I do with my other ones. Has a couple mini-stains, but again, it's second-hand. Can't have perfect condition if it's been used, even a little.

I wish I could write more, but... damn. Good thing the heat is easing a little in a couple of days. I just feel like my mind is going blank at the moment.

I hope this isn't a bad sign that I'm not actually more rested, but instead am slipping more towards a certain death?

Failed

Right, I didn't think today would be a double entry day, but here we go, I guess.

You remember the oral exam? 

Well. I failed it.

Done. Said it.

I failed this shit again. I keep failing and there's no end in the realm of failure for me.

Not only that, but insultingly so. The threshold for succeeding was at 17/20. What was my grade? 10/20. It feels exactly as when I was in my last year of high school with a GPA of 6/20. Even if at the time I knew it was because I wasn't going to class much anymore and I was just neither doing homework nor even care to try anymore during exams, it's still burned in my mind a decade later.

The lowest. 

The failure.

Low.

Insultingly low.

Humiliatingly. Low.

Even if that fucking threshold feels stupidly high for a job that is literally the lowest of the low in public service.

***

Two of us here succeeded. Minerva and another contract employee I don't know. But both Passiflora and I failed. Passiflora, for God's sake. She's nowhere near stupid and still failed. I don't know why, I do fucking hope this isn't racism playing in as she's black, but... why. 

Easy for Minerva though. She used to be in the military. 

But why Passiflora. Why her.

I'd rather be the only one that didn't pass than to know someone I appreciate didn't.

***

When I learned the news, I broke. Dionysus was with me. Passiflora left early, Capella wasn't here this afternoon, and Minerva still is on leave.

Ah. Yeah. I failed it, I said in an almost flat tone.

Ah damn. 

Silence.

...I guess this is...

My voice was breaking as the words were coming out. Frequent thing with me. As soon as I start opening my mouth about whatever's making me cry, 

...Everyone says I have the capacity...

I knew exactly what the next ones would be. That people never saw me clearly. That they believe things about me that aren't true and that sooner or later they'd find out and resent me for not living up to it. 

I stopped myself. He did not reply, just uneasily stood there.

I wrote up an email to my advisor. Then texts to my mom. Head aches. Holding back tears. And then, an email to Hera, which had the other guy in a copy. It was brief, I tried to not make it self-pitying, and I told them I hoped that they wouldn't be disappointed in me.

***

Within minutes, the tears had taken over, again. Theodora was about to go, but she came back to gather her things. She had a talk with Colonel Leo a while earlier and it didn't go well, apparently, because she was bitching about it to Dionysus. 

Hera came to ask me about my email. I was already on the verge of crying, so she asked if I wanted to come over to her office, it would be better to talk there, just the two of us. I accepted. The others were clearly uncomfortable with it anyway. Good that in her new office, there's no Janus. Not that he was a bad office mate to her, but it feels very good having one's own space.

***

Hera closed the door and sat me at her table. I cried, oh Lord. I told her how awful I thought of myself. That I was afraid of disappointing her. That I guess I probably am never doing enough. That I should've died a long time ago and that I don't even know why I'm still here and that I don't even deserve to work in this service. I can't remember all that I said, but Hera be Hera, she was awkward at first.

Oh, Hi'iaka, you don't have the right to tell me that. Because I will go home with those words, what will I do with them? I believe in you, Hi'iaka! If I didn't, I wouldn't have prolongated your contract for four more months...

I did not correct her, or say she wasn't saying it right. Just thought, this is Hera. She's not someone who goes into the abyss and stares at it straight in the face like I do. Hell, to her it was not normal that after the shelf incident, the first thing I told my mom was that I nearly died. 

If my own daughter told me that, I'd be calling all the emergency numbers, all the hospitals, all the firefighters, I'd be going crazy!

Yeah, Hera is a mom. She has two daughters at least, one 22 years old. And she's 48. I jokingly told her she could have been my mother. Of course we joked around on that, but yeah. Age-wise, she definitely could've had me young.

She told me that I would experience plenty of failures in exams during my life. She, herself, has such a background. Started as a B class personnel, passed many of those exams to end up where she is now. She also thinks I deserve a much better job than the one I have now and the one I was passing the exam for. C class. The executants, the lower class of public service.

Thing is, I failed the B one too. I may try again in a while, but... 

***

And what I understood, and what Hera also told me herself, is that she definitely makes a point of being an empathetic superior. I just don't understand what the other jerk was all about with her, saying he "had to go to therapy because of her". I just wonder what he must've done or if it's even real. 

But I got the chance to tell her about a lot of things. After a while, she remained silent, just listening to me, and I let it out. I let out that I didn't believe in psychology anymore. 

You know, the problem I have is that we literally have to pay someone to do what the community is supposed to do: we have to pay money for someone to hear us, care about us, support us, this is... I can't, this isn't something I can do anymore. Analyzing endlessly, too, when what helped me the most was living... and you know... there are people who get worse in therapy. Some just learn to be better at being awful but with fancy words to justify. Manipulative people just get a whole manual with all the necessary vocabulary to do it unpunished. 

She seemed surprised.

Ah yeah... hmm... 

Yeah. They do. They just get worse.

I didn't tell her who I was thinking about. My ex, my father. So many others, too.

And...

...And also... I know someone who's failed an oral exam. She passed the written part. But the oral, she didn't. 

Hopoe.

I couldn't talk about it without breaking down in tears all over again.

What exam was it? 

I told her the name of Hopoe's exam.

I... well. I looked up the results, since we weren't talking anymore by that point. And I saw that she had passed the written essay... but the oral... she failed it... 

I was crying. I don't need to mention her name. But the minute she's in my words, I cry.

I think it affected her a lot. 

Put my head in my hands.

Oh, but you can't carry both her pain and yours, and that of the Earth! You have to carry yours first... you can't always carry others.

You know, I carry mine, always. All on my own.

I had told her, previously, during the conversation, that I was carrying a lot alone, and that some people are dealt shitty cards in life and that was just it.

The star always shines at some point, she said. I do believe yours will. I want it to.

Of course, your typical Hera thing. She wants to do well. 

But I can't deal with that. Not meaning this in an ungrateful way, in fact, I told her... I'm grateful for the space she gave me.

Yeah... I hope. But there are people who can do everything they want, be as good as they want, they are wonderful, they do everything properly, and yet they never reach their goals, ever. They never get granted their wishes. For a reason we don't know, and that we will never know, somehow they never get anything from life, they just keep getting punched in the face. 

Yeah, that's true... some people just aren't so lucky.

Mh-hm. It's just... as I said, if you're dealt a bad hand, there isn't much you can do. 

We spent a while talking. I thanked her. She really does appreciate me a lot, and she's aware that it may take me a while to digest it. I'm always honest about the fact I don't know how to deal with those positive words. It's not that I don't trust her. It's that I don't trust that people are truly seeing me as I am. And that sooner or later, they won't get disappointed or hate me.

But she does believe in me. I'll have to take her at her word. Not that it's easy, but...

...perhaps.

White pearl on silver chain. I could not take my eyes off it. 

She really does want me to come see her in her office though, lol. Always says "if there's anything you can come to me". Damn Hera, are you this lonely?

***

Anyway. I'm tired. Head aches from crying. I'm having a Hinano to drown my sorrows a little.

Later, internet.

The stars

Those nights have me wear my pearl to sleep, again.

Not because Hopoe is on leave. But because if I die, I want to die with it around my neck. I don't want it to be next to me. I want it to be on my body when my soul leaves it, if it does. 

By the way, by typing her name in the email as if I was going to write her one, I found out that she's actually been on leave since the day of the recital. Then, at the moment, she's preparing for yet another professional exam. She may be on the way to become a warrant officer, unless she requested to pass said exam. It's generally automatically prepared when you're nominated to gain rank in the next year or so, but she's been a first sergeant for... three years I reckon? Three or perhaps four years. I can't access her file on the database anymore anyway: where I am, it's only those from my service and those who are inactive. So, guess I'll be in the dark for a bit.

Cepheus didn't tell me about that though he probably knows but I assume he just didn't think of telling me the details. Just that she was on leave. Or maybe she didn't tell him, if she indeed signed up for that exam. 

Anyway, it's not that important. What stands out to me is that I knew she wasn't around. The heat explanation might not have been entirely spot-on, but... still, I knew she wasn't here. I did not feel her presence. And I did feel her presence many times without even seeing her first. 

Those things are real, aren't they...

***

By the way, silly little me put tinfoil on the external side of my windows to try and block more heat and... it appears not to be such a shitty idea! Apparently though, don't do it on the internal side, as heat will get trapped between the foil and the glass. The temperature shock may fragilize or even break the window. Better not have a whole ass lot to pay in reparations AND a broken window in the middle of a heatwave, mmkay?

But really, it seems to work. So let's keep it until it stops being so damn hot... and put some back when the thermometer goes crazy again...

***

Something happened this morning that rattled me to the point of crying. 

Thankfully the other jerk went to his new office and Passiflora moved in (by the way, learned that my guess of her being from Martinique is correct!), but... this morning, it was 29c at 9am.

I told Dionysus and Theodora it could be good to close the window, as it was only going to get hotter from here.

Nah, let's have some air, said Theodora.

Mmh, okay. 

No, we will wait until 10:30am to close, said Dionysus. We need to let fresh air in.

But it's 29 degrees outside. You want to get hot air inside?

Yeah, we are in the back of the office, we're just taking in all the heat, added Passiflora, who is right beside me.

No, we'll close later, he kept refusing.

Sigh. I let him have his way. I was severely annoyed and worried about overheating, but here we go. If they both want it, I guess I can't do much, and I can't impose myself on them, either. 

A dozen or so minutes later, Capella got back in. I let her know that I thought it could be nice to close that damn window. In the end, she went to the window and closed it. Theodora showed her how to close the blinds.

I was raging inside.

So when it's the warrant officer, we can close it, but when it's me requesting it, we can't? 

I didn't raise my voice, but I was definitely holding it back. 

Yeah, but like, she's the warrant officer.

So what I'm saying has no importance?

Let's not get angry, said Dionysus.

Oh yes, we're going to get angry, I seethed while keeping a straight face. There's a point where you have to. 

It was rising in my chest. I just wanted to smash the fucking desk at this point.

No, let's not... no need to.

Capella then came back to her desk. Still herself. Saying that it was starting to get real hot outside.

Not like anything I say is worth listening to anyway, I let out. Not that my voice has any power, does it.

Silence as we resumed working.

...And my tears came. 

I hid them. I was working on something, I kept working, silently letting them fall. Holding back sobs. I was afraid that if anyone saw me crying after that, they'd think I'm doing it because I didn't get what I wanted. I think not even Capella noticed. I blew my nose a few times but blowing one's nose is normal, so I don't think anyone realized anything. 

I felt like a spoiled brat, like a manipulative little girl that throws a tantrum for a fucking stupid window ordeal. And it kept coming back to my chest, a deep knowing:

Nobody ever listens. Nobody would ever listen to me.

Each time, a new wave of tears. More sobs suppressed. 

At some point, having finished up the file, I asked if the archives room was open. It was. I went to put it back there: on the way, I let it out after a good twenty-five minutes of waves that I suppressed and smothered as not to look like a whiny child. It was silent. But it was there. And it felt better. 

I waited a little to come back. I didn't want people to ask me if I was okay. Not that it's any important anyway. 

And as expected, nobody asked. Good. The last thing I want is to make a scene, and to be the one who cries all the time, all over again. Compassion isn't infinite in people. There will be a point they'll realize I'm just a pussy, and I'd rather make it as laaaate as possible.

***

In my deleted files in my mailbox, though... I found the text I wanted to send to the whole team at the end of my old contract. Back when I didn't know if I would ever be back there.

The date of last modification (as I had actually started writing it earlier) jumped out to me.

November 25, 2025.

The day I went to confront Hopoe directly at her office after Malva told me "if I were you, I'd go see her!". 

The day following the evening I nearly killed myself, and only Jap, my father's beagle, was with me, licking my feet like crazy and just being here, in his non-judgemental, innocent way.

Fuck. 

I sent it to myself.

Have it here, translated.

***

The stars

The day we all went to the thousand-seat concert hall to listen to our chiefs and generals, one after the other, for a full day, a certain captain [Cygnus] asked me if I was dreaming of stars. Indeed I was, and I still am, but not of the ones that you can find on a sleeve. I was dreaming of other stars, those who remain when the sun goes down to hide below the horizon, only to reemerge in the wee hours of the morning.

 Carefree, sparkling, they remain here, lost somewhere in the cosmos at an unattainable distance. Some of them have long died, but look like they are still shining flamboyantly. It's just that we haven't seen them die yet, and that we may never see them going out, whether quietly or violently. Some others are already here and have just been born, but their light has not reached us yet. We may not ever see them, either.

The cosmos is vast. But when you're missing a dozen people, Reader, you're only face to face with the immeasurable void of space.

Alright, time to tell you yet another story.

Imagine a bit of cosmos. Not the entire cosmos. Just a part of it. Take a few constellations and put them all in here. OK. Looks like they are set up way differently than in our sky...

Cassiopeia sometimes cohabitates with Boötes [Old Major, not the one I ended up naming Boötes], who loves his old guy teas.

At first, there were Cepheus and Cassiopeia. But unlike the mythological figures they're named after, they are not married. They simply rule over this little nugget of cosmos. Sharing an ascendant.

Besides Cassiopeia, four very peculiar constellations: a Snake [Cetus] who likes to pretend he's the most handsome, a sweet Lyra [Libra] with a comforting vibe, a Scorpio [Oria] who pierces without violence, and an enigmatic but sensitive Corona Australis. [Hopoe]

And one day came Corona Borealis. [Hi'iaka] Coming from another constellation I will not mention here, she may have originated in another cosmos, but she came to pour her light on this one.

And Corona Borealis keeps dreaming of her beautiful Corona Australis, even in her silence.

(Just as a side note... the name of the most visible star in Corona Borealis, Alphecca, means "broken", and it is also called the Pearl... and Corona Australis has her own... Alphecca Meridiana...)

25.11.2025, unfinished work.

'Anavai ho'a 'ario

 

You're so beautiful when you're calm

Your music echoes in our hearts

We are delighted to walk this path

To laugh and share together

But when the storm is coming

You become so wild, so deadly

River of silvery glints,

In the rain you awaken,

In your rage, you turn vicious...

You tear us away from our families, 

and your melody casts a shadow 

over our hearts...

Heatwave

Last night I thought I would die. I woke up at 3am, texted my mom telling her I believed I wouldn't survive this one. I cried. I was thinking, again, about how death is stalking me and might just get me this time. Took a shower, went back to bed. The strange thing is that despite all of this, my body temperature was low: 36.1 as I went back to bed. It probably wasn't much higher before.

Just how? Why do I feel so godawful and yet I'm nowhere near heatstroke? How does my body even...? Could I survive after all?

But still. Tears flowed. I cried. And I may cry again, tonight. All heat and no cool makes Hi'iaka a teary girl. All death and no life makes Hi'iaka a scared girl. 

But mostly, all wake and no sleep... you know the rest of the phrase.

***

This morning, I stuck my sister's drawings to the wall. I added some books to my desk for decoration, some I don't really read but still like, and also my wisteria branch.  

The first thing the guy who will be replaced by Passiflora asked is:

So, how was that weekend? That Father's day weekend?

He was looking at me.

Listen, I don't want to talk about th- This isn't the moment.

He apparently is still in contact with his dreadfully abusive father. At this point, I don't even want to know. He didn't push, but I still feel so uncomfortable around him. He says that "you know where you stand with him", and prides himself on being blunt, but I feel that the difference between his bluntness and mine is night and day.

Mainly, I may be frustrated with people and the institution for how poorly they handle things. But he shits on Leo and Janus. I don't like his tone of voice when he starts going on about them, or about Hera. For sure they are not perfect. Superiors can tend to be out of touch with their subordinates.

Apparently one woman in the service is on leave due to an argument with hers, who is none other than the guy who helped me prepare for my oral exam alongside Hera (let's call him... Osiris? I think an Egyptian god would fit him well, although he doesn't have any Maghrebi or Middle Eastern ancestry). To argue with Osiris? Apparently he's not "as nice as he seems". 

But damn I literally have no problem with the guy. Nor with Hera, nor with Leo, nor with Janus. And if they ever get on my nerves, I could take it. I wouldn't think of them as lesser people unless they were truly acting awful to me, which I think has little chance of happening because they seem to like me a lot.

And I just hate it when people rave about others anyway. 

This dude literally says that people talk behind each other's backs constantly but that he doesn't, and what does he do? Exactly what he says he doesn't do.

And he's stormy, like me. He curses, he gets annoyed, and for a minute I was afraid I was making everyone as uncomfortable as he makes me.

But then, as I'm typing this, I remember one detail that changes it all: I can sometimes be a little frustrated and say that someone is disconnected, or that they're a bit annoying (like the wife of a reservist, a limping major, who is constantly on his back whenever he's here, poor guy), but I would never, EVER add so much negative energy like he does. 

Plus I had to decline two calls from what I thought was his wife given the name, but it was actually his father. He had left it with the sound on. And he leaves the radio on, constantly. Me? I'm afraid of even putting on music because the last thing I want is to disturb the others. But I'm thinking of charging my earbuds and getting them here.

He makes me so incredibly uncomfortable, and I don't want to mean this in a victim way. But he feels... I wouldn't say evil, but just... mean-spirited. He's known in the service for being a little "peculiar" anyway.

I can't wait for him to go and for Passiflora to replace him.

***

After saying hello to the rest of the service and some banter with Esme...

Hello!

Hello, Mrs Hi'iaka.

But you have seen me already.

No I haven't. [She was literally in my office and said hello lol]

You did.

That was my subconscious saying hello to you...

So you're admitting that your subconscious notices when I'm in the room? Pfft, I'm just pulling your leg.

...I went upstairs. After all, I had said hello to my service, I wasn't going to skip the team.

***

It's strange, but I had a feeling Hopoe could not be there. I was both afraid of the heat plus the possible stress of seeing me making her feel physically weird, but at the same time, I had a feeling she would not be at work precisely because it's so damn hot upstairs and with her fragile health, it wouldn't be a good idea. 

She doesn't just have endometriosis that landed her in the hospital multiple times. She has at least one metabolic or respiratory disorder. How do I know? Back last September, a little before she closed off, she had a medical appointment. She came back with a bandage on her ear lobe. This is a sign of a blood gas exam, capillary I believe. Those are not for minor conditions. I never really knew what is her specific disorder and I may know eventually, but she said it herself, her health issues are "kinda serious". 

As I climbed the stairs, it was getting hotter. I was already thinking about the team downstairs in my new office: if it was this hot in my ground floor room and in the new office, even if it's much cooler than the 19th century buildings, imagine on the top floor.

No Cassiopeia. Her door was closed and I didn't knock. I didn't knock on the Cetus-Libra-Hopoe-Oria office door either: probably none of them is here. Knowing that Oria is pregnant and that all three (Cetus, Libra and Cassiopeia) are parents, I'm pretty sure that they are on leave because schools are closed. There's actually a plan for that: many today will be out of work because their children can't go to school. Megara, Austral, they weren't here either. I really didn't see many.

I first said hello to Grey and Cygnus, who are now where used to be Megara, Gill, and Chin. Soon Jolene will join them (she isn't here probably for the aforementioned reason). Cygnus is struggling with the heat, but he's managing. I sometimes think of asking for his contact info like Austral. Dude... starts to feel more like a friend to me. Especially after he was my guardian angel when I got drunk on beer last time. He's making his way in here seriously. 

Then, Cepheus. I casually mentioned that there weren't much of them here. He said that the lady I haven't named because she isn't really relevant is sick, and that Hopoe was on leave.

He didn't mention the others. He only mentioned Hopoe.

Probably he knows, somewhere, that I'm still looking for her. The pearl, after all. I don't say her name, and yet she's all over my words.

While I got a surge of anxiety because Hopoe literally never takes any leave as she cumulates them to go back home for months every few years, I realize that my instinct about her having likely taken leave due to the heat is probably spot-on. 

Add to this the fact she deleted her profile pic again a couple days ago: that tracks. She is exhausted. She probably doesn't want to see nor talk to anyone. Maybe the sense of solitude I felt the same evening, which wasn't mine (because I don't feel lonely lately), was indeed... hers. Maybe I did pick up on her state. 

I'm too tired to really have my antenna tuned at the moment, though. 

I talked with him for a bit. He did tell me again about Gill, Chin and Bootes leaving the team. That we had "lost" them. But to me, they're not lost. They have just moved.

I may not see Bootes or Chin much again, but Gill... I will. 

I actually saw him moving stuff around with Virgo in Austral's former office. Virgo doesn't talk to me very much, but I don't get the impression she dislikes me. More that she feels relatively neutral about me, and I feel the same about her. Really no hostility: just perhaps neutrality. But I find it interesting that we just start to talk this year. Probably there's a chance we will get to know each other more?

***

Capella is not going to be here this afternoon. She was here in the morning, but has to take her daughter for other exams. It turns out she's got mononucleosis. I'm floored: I thought this disease was mostly affecting teenagers and young adults because we call it the "kissing sickness". She's got another infection on top of that that requires blood tests to check.

I'm just... I feel bad for her. Imagine being in a heatwave. Which is already hard. But imagine being in a heatwave with a sick child. This is something I wish on no one.

***

Either way... my mom also reassured me, seeing pictures of the cracks in the wall, that they weren't structural. Phew. At least my own office won't collapse on me...