There is always hope...

I'm exhausted. It isn't the mere absence of restful sleep or bouts of insomnia that are responsible for my current state. It's the knowledge that, once again, Mulder is about to lead me on some adventure that will undoubtedly end in disaster.

Actually, that isn't quite fair. I'm being judgmental and, for lack of a better word, cranky. My bone-weary fatigue can be attributed to more than the fear that my beloved partner's selfishness is responsible for our impending move. I am also the victim of a slight case of depression. While I can blame this on many things, I'm sorry to say that boredom and hopelessness are responsible. Could I possibly be any more trite?

This is also where I find myself facing a quandary. If my boredom - the soul crushing feeling of being trapped in a useless situation - is the cause of this malady, surely a change of scene should be welcome. However, I detest the reason behind the move, which serves to depress me further.

What gives Mulder the right to uproot us for his libidinous pursuit? I haven't met this person yet, but I've heard enough to know that Mulder's desire to save yet another helpless soul will more than likely lead to his being hurt once he's left high and dry. I've seen it happen too many times to count, and I cannot help being concerned for his welfare.

But, as in the past, wherever he leads, I will follow. He's led me into some dark places. I suppose a large city should be a welcome change of pace.

266 words

No matter the number of years I spend on this planet, there is not one person who will ever know everything about me. Strangers may drift in and out of my life, some becoming friends, lovers or more, but they will only ever know the parts of me I choose to share. It's necessary for me to keep something back, to shield some piece of myself from public view. It's this little piece that keeps me centered, grounded, sane - whatever you choose to call it. It belongs to me and me alone, and I refuse to ever let it be subjected to judgment or scrutiny. There is nothing worse than revealing a part of yourself to someone you trust, only to have it used against you at a later time. When the warmth of friendship or love has cooled, any part of you is vulnerable to attack. Any part except that which is still unknown. That part of me that I keep safe and private will never be used against me.

172 words

I can't imagine not being monogamous. It's the way I was raised, to think about being faithful to one's partner. Infidelity is something harsh and cruel that only leads to heartbreak. Granted, I've had times in my life wherein my judgment was questionable, and I'm ashamed to say that I have had affairs with married men. But, she says shamefaced and backpedaling, I was always faithful. Faithful to the unfaithful. Honestly, Dana...

None of us is perfect. An obvious statement, true, but a fact that is sometimes overlooked by those who deem themselves the last word on what is and is not right. While I would never be unfaithful to the person with whom I was in a relationship, it is not my place to judge the deeds of others. I could only hope that my lover would give me the same regard. Barring that, I would hope to handle any betrayal with class and dignity. I believe one can be classy and dignified when chasing one's cheating lover with a gun.

172 words

Out of town 'til further notice.

The short answer is "no." The slightly longer answer is, "I wouldn't mind that being the case sometimes." I shouldn't say that. It makes it sound as if I've experienced mornings so full of regret and guilt, I'd rather they didn't exist in my memory. Honestly, I've never done anything I've regretted enough to wish I couldn't remember it. All of my mistakes mean as much to me as the moments of unadulterated joy and contentment I've had in my life.

No, what I mean is, should I ever find myself facing a morning after a night spent committing some atrocious act, I wouldn't mind having the luxury of forgetting all about it. Of course, I can't imagine anything I could do that would warrant me wishing for such a thing.

Actually, if he were still alive, I would make a joke here about Frohike, but it's mean to think so poorly of the departed. Rest in peace, Melvin.

159 words

My father was a man who lived his life by a strict set of standards and ideals. He possessed a disciplined and logical mind that I like to believe I inherited from him. Likewise, my mother is a gentle, loving woman, and I like to think that my compassion and need to nurture comes from her. While I would love to believe that becoming a mother aided the growth of my loving and caring side, I fear that the subsequent decision to give William up has only served to fortify the cold, distant part of myself. I'm not entirely certain where this hardness comes from or why I've allowed it to infiltrate the very core of my being. Perhaps my father had it and I was merely fortunate enough to have never seen that side of him.

I'm aware that I convey an image of cool, somewhat icy detachment. There isn't anything I can do to change the way others perceive me, but I would like, just once, for someone to see me as I really am. I know, without a doubt, that desire - that need to be seen as more than some uptight, humorless, unfeeling shrew - is all my own and inherited from no one.

208 words

I flirted with a small town sheriff. I was pushed around, as usual, by my pigheaded partner. I chased after my partner as he chased after a vampire. When he caught said vampire and staked him through the heart, I discovered that the vamp's "fangs" were, in fact, false teeth. I went on a stakeout (no pun intended) with the sheriff, I was drugged as he told me that he was a vampire. I awoke the next morning in a cemetery, the sheriff's coat around me. I walked back to town and found Mulder inside our rental car, fast asleep. When he awoke, he shared a story of me involving a trailer park full of vampires.

We returned to D.C. and decided to discuss the case. Our stories didn't exactly match, thus proving that perception is a rather impractical thing when it comes to composing reports for our supervisor. We couldn't deny what the both of us had experienced - more shocking for myself, I suppose, since Mulder was already a believer in the vampire legend - but how to present it to Skinner? In the end, we could only say that the vampires in question left without a trace. Everyone associated with the vampires in question left. Without a trace.

When Skinner looked at the both of us in that inimitable way of his, Mulder and I informed him that we could neither confirm nor deny the events that had taken place outside of our individual presence.

Then it happened. The lamest excuse I have ever used in my life, whether personally or professionally.

"Anyway...I was drugged."

268 words

Unlike my counterpart, I am not being sarcastic when I say that my favorite retreat from the world is a hot bubble bath. From the moment I turn on the taps and the bathroom begins to fill with steam, I can feel myself starting to relax and unburden myself of the day's woes. As I sit on the edge of the tub and trickle bubble bath under the rushing water, I can't help smiling when the foam begins to appear. I trail my fingers through it, dipping in further to test the temperature of the water, adjusting the faucets accordingly and fine tuning until everything is perfect.

The part I enjoy the most comes next, when I stand and let my robe slip from my shoulders. It's almost as if I'm sloughing off my worries and tension, even if it's only for that moment in time. I stand free and ready to step into the warm embrace of the water.

When I lower myself into the water, I invariably sigh (though it's more of a moan, I've been told) and allow the soothing, scented comfort to pull me down. Every inch of me releases its tension, the heat of the water drawing it out of me, caressing me from head to toe like a much beloved paramour. I gather some bubbles in my hand, smoothing them over my arms and my legs. My hand slips under the water to lazily map the contours of my body until I'm left a sleepy, sated picture of pure bliss.

Mulder and I are currently staying in a hotel without tubs in the bathrooms. I'm extremely sad.

274 words

[Locked from the authorities]

Like many, I find the idea of injustice, in any form, to be cruel and unnecessary. I say unnecesary because any act of ill will that is perpetrated by one human being against another is always unnecessary. It's especially troublesome when these very acts are committed under the guise of following the law.

My partner was falsely accused of murder. He was subjected to a military trial that was nothing more than a mockery of the very system and ideals it was purporting to uphold. When they found him guilty, I was angry that this blow, this tremendous injustice, had been dealt to a man who was guilty of nothing more than fighting for his beliefs. When he was sentenced to death, I was devastated. Then, I became angry and vowed to do whatever was necessary to both protect him and the cause he had been championing since I had known him.

Thanks to our friends, he was able to escape, and the two of us ran. We're still running and won't be able to rest until this injustice has been undone.

186 words

There was a moment in time, not all that long ago, when a certain set of circumstances led me to make the acquaintance of a woman named Colleen. She shared with me beliefs that opened my eyes and my mind in ways I had never before thought possible. These things, these tiny bits of truth, stayed with me long after she revealed them to me, and I learned that it was necessary for me to approach the duty of living with a much altered perspective. While the specifics of what she shared with me won't be delved into in such an open forum, I will say that my encounter with her changed my life.

When I began to see things differently, to see the ways in which the world operated, I allowed myself to make decisions that I was certain were meant to be made. It was as if every connection between everything that exists was leading me down the path my life eventually took. My affair with Mulder, the birth of my son, and our eventual escape from a literal death sentence for the man I loved were all meant to be. But then, not only did my romantic relationship end, but I had been forced to surrender my son to an adoptive family in order to guarantee his safety. How could my life have possibly been destined to end this way? I found it harder and harder to accept the notion that I had been mistaken at every turn, and I refused to believe that nothing true or good could flourish in the debris of my life.

These years that Mulder and I have spent in hiding have led us both to realize truths about ourselves that never would have been revealed had we continued about our normal lives. While these revelations are nothing when compared to the gargantuan task that lies ahead of us - that of saving the planet - it does bring me some peace of mind that everything did have some sort of purpose. To anyone else, I'm sure that what I've discovered is meaningless, at best, but if I may allow myself the indulgence of self-absorption, it's important to me that I no longer deny that which should have been obvious sooner. Mulder is fond of ridiculing me for my "self-discovery," but I think that's only because he's not yet ready to accept his own. (There's a lot of late night talking and sharing that takes place when you think you're with the only other person on the planet you can trust.)

Perhaps all of this is simply a way for me to justify the decisions I made and really has nothing to do with any grand universal schemes or the way fate appears to toy with us. Perhaps I'm using this topic to come out in the open. I only know that I'm sure who I am, now, and if Colleen were standing in front of me, I would kiss her.

499 words