It’s not typical for him to feel guilty like this. In fact, it’s downright wrong. There had been plenty of times in his life where he should have felt guilty and he never did. What made this all so different? Why was he suddenly feeling the strange tingle of remorse that he had never experienced once in his life? The explanation that he had tried to rationalize in his head seemed more unlikely than his feelings of guilt so he buried them the best that he could and the only way he knew how; with alcohol. The slow burn would distract him from any other thoughts and yet, it didn’t. Once the buzz wore off, it was only that sick feeling that he dreaded.
What had happened last month was something he couldn’t understand. Most of the week was a messy blur but he remembered feeling crazy. He remembered bits and pieces of torturing people with some sort of substance that he couldn’t remember now. It was so strange how the whole week was a giant blur. How could that be? Even with the amount that Jason drank, there was no way he could have managed to be in a stupor the entire week. Sure, he liked his alcohol but he didn’t like it that much. Surely he wouldn’t have blacked out the whole weekend either. He had remembered the days leading up to it, at the party, and then that Sunday was a blur, followed by the rest of the week. Thinking about it only led him to have more of a headache so he put away those thoughts.
There was still so much catching up to do from the week he barely remembered, where he had canceled all of his appointments and was out doing god knows what. The feeling that he had actually hurt people in that state frightened him. There were so many sordid things in his past but he could always cover them up quickly and quietly. Everything was so meticulously planned that he never really needed to bother worrying. When he didn’t know what had happened, though, he worried that perhaps he might not be able to cover up whatever awful thing he did. The feeling made him sick to his stomach; stomach turning ever so slightly when he even entertained the thought. It hadn’t ruined him yet, though, so there was a silver lining amidst the chaos. He wasn’t sure how long that would last, though.
It wasn’t until he had regained some semblance of memories of another person, another life, that he really started to worry. Scarecrow and Jonathan Crane played in his mind like an awful jewelry box that would never close. It hurt his head when he even thought about them, or they simply made themselves a fixture in the forefront of his mind, but there they were. Jason was sure that he had finally broke, a psychologist who was very much in need of a psychologist himself, for seemingly entertaining the thought that he was two people. Perhaps it had been all of those years of psychological torture or perhaps it was even karma paying its revenge on him. Whatever it was, he was not a fan, and he was not sure any of this would end well.
There was really only one thing to do; he needed to throw himself into his work. Determination was the only thing that would keep him going and he needed to work through the mess of the situation. He would go through the process that he would tell his clients; live your life as normal as you possibly can, make note of when you find something out of place, do things that make you feel like you. So far, he had been doing just that, making notes in journals and hoping that something would jump out at him, though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer. Whatever it was that happened, it wasn’t good, and he was sure that, in time, it would only be worse. The only hope that he could have was that it was simply a one time thing, a fluke, and that he could simply move on from this. Something in the pit of his stomach told him to buckle up.
What had happened last month was something he couldn’t understand. Most of the week was a messy blur but he remembered feeling crazy. He remembered bits and pieces of torturing people with some sort of substance that he couldn’t remember now. It was so strange how the whole week was a giant blur. How could that be? Even with the amount that Jason drank, there was no way he could have managed to be in a stupor the entire week. Sure, he liked his alcohol but he didn’t like it that much. Surely he wouldn’t have blacked out the whole weekend either. He had remembered the days leading up to it, at the party, and then that Sunday was a blur, followed by the rest of the week. Thinking about it only led him to have more of a headache so he put away those thoughts.
There was still so much catching up to do from the week he barely remembered, where he had canceled all of his appointments and was out doing god knows what. The feeling that he had actually hurt people in that state frightened him. There were so many sordid things in his past but he could always cover them up quickly and quietly. Everything was so meticulously planned that he never really needed to bother worrying. When he didn’t know what had happened, though, he worried that perhaps he might not be able to cover up whatever awful thing he did. The feeling made him sick to his stomach; stomach turning ever so slightly when he even entertained the thought. It hadn’t ruined him yet, though, so there was a silver lining amidst the chaos. He wasn’t sure how long that would last, though.
It wasn’t until he had regained some semblance of memories of another person, another life, that he really started to worry. Scarecrow and Jonathan Crane played in his mind like an awful jewelry box that would never close. It hurt his head when he even thought about them, or they simply made themselves a fixture in the forefront of his mind, but there they were. Jason was sure that he had finally broke, a psychologist who was very much in need of a psychologist himself, for seemingly entertaining the thought that he was two people. Perhaps it had been all of those years of psychological torture or perhaps it was even karma paying its revenge on him. Whatever it was, he was not a fan, and he was not sure any of this would end well.
There was really only one thing to do; he needed to throw himself into his work. Determination was the only thing that would keep him going and he needed to work through the mess of the situation. He would go through the process that he would tell his clients; live your life as normal as you possibly can, make note of when you find something out of place, do things that make you feel like you. So far, he had been doing just that, making notes in journals and hoping that something would jump out at him, though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer. Whatever it was that happened, it wasn’t good, and he was sure that, in time, it would only be worse. The only hope that he could have was that it was simply a one time thing, a fluke, and that he could simply move on from this. Something in the pit of his stomach told him to buckle up.