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monaboyd Mar. 3rd, 2004 09:31 pm)
jettabug.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Mar. 3rd, 2004 09:31 pm)Title: The Diary Of Dom
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jettabug
Pairing: Monaboyd
Rating: R for swearing
Feedback: Please!
Author's Notes: I don't know where this came from, it's just a journal in Dom's POV about the last few weeks of fliming in New Zealand.
Summary: Dom's journal.
The Diary Of Dom
by Jenna
I hate starting new pages.
There’s this horrible pressure to it. Don’t know why.
Anyway, no bother. I can ramble, I’m known for it.
Today is officially the 28th day before filming for The Lord Of The Rings is over.
I have no idea whether that’s a hideously depressing thought, or a relief I never knew it would be.
I hate the idea that this is all ending. I hate the notion that I’m going to leave this beautiful country soon. I hate that these people I’ve gotten to know won’t be down the hall or next to me in make-up.
Is it just me or is this particularly hard? We all knew when we signed on the dotted line that these days would come, that it would be time to say goodbye, even if we didn’t want to. But it just seems so much tougher and more painful than I thought it would be.
Or maybe it’s having this effect on me because I’ve let myself get too attached to this whole experience.
But, it’s very likely I feel this way because I’m sitting alone in my room, it’s late at night and I’m feeling sorry for myself.
It’s incredibly tempting to call Bill, wake him up so he’ll curse at me with that Scottish accent. Something even more tempting to do would be to prank call Orlando, but that can get old fast.
So I’ll just settle for writing whatever floats into my head. For example, I’m listening to Coldplay, thinking about what work I’ve got to do tomorrow. Pick-ups, and lots of them.
Don’t get me wrong, I love working, I love everything that has come with this experience, but things like pick-ups in front of a green screen in a really hot and sweaty warehouse is not my idea of a fun day.
But you take the good with the bad, right? I don’t really have a choice, but even if I did, I still think I’d show up to do it. It wouldn’t be this amazing if it were perfect all the time, would it?
However, there are many things to look forward to. Our THREE-DAY weekend coming up. Can you believe it, three days? I think the longest we’ve had off so far is three hours, so this is really a blessing. Elijah, Billy and I are going surfing, and then out to dinner with Orlando, Sean, Viggo, the other Sean and some other cast members. It’ll sorta be our goodbye before the goodbye.
That sucks. Goodbye. But I suppose it won’t be like goodbye forever, there are always premieres, press conferences, the Golden Globes, Oscar’s. Lots to do.
But it still doesn’t take away the finality of it all.
Doesn’t take away that I’m harbouring feelings that I can’t begin to explain.
Yes, I’m still head over heels in love. And I have 28 days to tell them how I feel.
How in the hell do you turn to your best friend and tell them you love them?
Scary thing of the day: I was in the make-up chair this morning, playing with an eyeliner pencil, when, without realising it, I began writing D.M for B.B on my forearm. I mean, I was sitting there, fiddling with it, and then all of a sudden writing that on myself.
Wasn’t until I actually noticed did I panic. But of course, it’s eyeliner, so it didn’t really rub off. I was trying to spit on my arm discreetly, because if Naomi had noticed what I’d written, I’d be a dead man. And, as if God was against me, it was liquid-proof eyeliner. The fucking thing stained my arm.
So I just put my Merry shirt on and kept the sleeves rolled down all day. I can still faintly see the outlines of the letters, and even now, after the near death experience I might’ve had with them, they still make me smile.
It just shows that I think about him even when I’m not thinking at all.
So now comes the debacle: Do I tell Billy how I feel, or do I leave it, possibly letting go of the only chance I have to reveal my true feelings?
I hate all this, stupid high school crush pressure bullshit.
So perhaps I’ll just stick to pouring my heart out in here. It seems lately, this journal has become my saviour. I think if I didn’t have these pages to fill with my ramblings and obsession with Bill, I woulda cracked by now and blurted everything out. And that can’t be a good thing.
Or could it?
I’m so confused I could scream!
I don’t know if I mentioned it in a previous entry, but I’ve been working on this letter for a while. My letter to Billy. So far, this is what I have:
Dear Bill,
I think it needs a bit more before it’s finished.
But what to write? Something trivial about the weather, or our favourite bands? Or something more deep and meaningful, like what it has meant to get to know him over the years.
I hate indecision. I resolved when I came to New Zealand not to let my fears and insecurities stand in front of what I want. But then I met Billy, and it all went downhill from there. I don’t know why I was so scared in the beginning to tell him how I felt, I guess we became such good friends so quick, I convinced myself not to do anything abut the way I felt.
I hate that little voice in the back of my head. I wish I could have it removed. I hate how it sounds just like my mother. This nagging, incessant voice that always tells me I’m doing the wrong thing, which is strange, because my mother is the complete opposite of that.
I hate that I push my feelings to the side when I’m with him, and just play around like always, like we’re best friends, completely in tune with each other. He just makes me so nervous. My hands shake when I write his name, when I write anything about him. When I think about him, when I talk about him with Elijah or Orlando.
I hate that I can only tell him I love him when I’m completely smashed. And he always says it back, because he does love me. Not in the way I want him to, though. I hate that he has such an effect over me, because sometimes, I wish I didn’t love him like I do. I wish that I could be free from the intoxication of his voice, the way it floats through the air and hits my ear full force, and makes goose flesh appear on my skin, and sends a shiver down my back.
Or the way he looks at me when I’m talking to me, his green eyes boring perfectly into my grey ones. He just mesmerises me. I haven’t felt this way in forever. Never have I looked at someone and immediately thought that I would die for them. I have never loved someone so much my heart physically hurt to look at them and know that they would never want you like you wanted them. I’ve never felt that skipping heartbeat before, that only happens when their name is mentioned or when you see them first thing in the morning. I’ve never cried as hard as I do now that I’m in love.
Billy Boyd is this amazing creature of perfection. He doesn’t know it though. He goes on and on about his unlucky with love status, and it takes all of my self-control not to rebut that with a comment that would turn everyone’s cheeks red, and cause me to fall to the floor and die.
It’s just what he does to me. He makes me feel like I can do anything, but at the same time, without intention, he makes me feel the lowest I’ve ever been. Do you know what it feels like to look at someone you love with your whole heart and know that they will never look with complete passion or adoration? They will never hold you in their arms and whisper sweet poetry in your ear, and they won’t dance with you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, head resting on their shoulders. You will never spend an amazing night together, staying up talking until first light breaks.
And that breaks my heart.
I nearly want to hate him for making me feel this way, but I can’t. I could never hate Billy. I could never hate his affable laugh, and his dancing green eyes. Or his soft hair and his smooth hands. I couldn’t hate the way he snores when he’s asleep, or when he goes around and gives me a wedgie. I couldn’t hate how he’s always happy all the time, how nothing seems to affect him. I could never hate Billy, because Billy means the world to me.
And he will never know it.
If possible, I think my heart just broke again.
Now I know staying up late listening to Coldplay and REM was a bad idea, because now I’m crying, staining your pages. And I have to be up in five hours for a long-ass day of pick-ups and re-shoots. But I know I won’t be able to sleep. As soon as I close my eyes, I’ll see him.
Perhaps I could work on the letter I’ll never send. The letter was actually Orlando’s idea. No, I haven’t told him about Billy, I’m not crazy. Not that I don’t trust Orlando, its just Orlando is…Orlando. I merely told him I was having a few issues, and he told me writing a letter, to anyone, doesn’t matter who, its a cathartic experience. He told me that he used to write up to five letters a day after he broke his back, and it sorta made sense.
Why be angry and upset when you can get all of those feelings out on paper, to shelve them away, and never have to look at them again.
Orlando used to write to Santa. It’s a little funny, and I have to admit when he told me, I chuckled. But he said, in the end, it didn’t matter whose name was after the “Dear”, all it mattered was that you got it all out of your head and onto paper. So, I’ve decided to give it a go, like I mentioned before, I have the “Dear Billy” part down, all I need is an opener.
But really, it doesn’t have to make sense, considering I’ll be the only one reading it.
Maybe after I finish it, I’ll get really drunk and give it to Bill.
I know Ian would encourage that. He’s been out and proud for years now. I suppose, it should be that easy for me, considering I’ve been out for four years now. God, it seems like yesterday.
But it’s not that easy. I’ve never had a boyfriend; I’ve never had my first gay kiss. Seems a little unbelievable, doesn’t it? That I’ve been out of the closet for four years and I haven’t even gone as far to hold hands with another man?
Yeah, it is weird.
I guess, I didn’t really know any gay people in Manchester. It’s not as thought there’s a special club with a Members Only t-shirt. Ian was the first gay man I’d met. And of course, Orlando and Viggo, who have been secretly seeing each other since 2001. And Elijah admitted to finding Orlando attractive after an all-night drinking session. Even Billy admitted his tendencies to watch guys in the shower at the gym.
But yet, that doesn’t comfort me in the least. Billy could be as camp as a roll of tents, and I don’t think I could tell him how I feel.
I remember the night that we all found out Viggo and Orlando together. It was the night we all admitted our sexual preference.
We were all at Viggo’s apartment in Wellington, sprawled over his living room, watching TV, when Queer As Folk came on. I’d seen the UK version a few times, but this American version…had all us guys squirming in our seats before the opening credits began to roll.
After the show (by then, some or all of us had pillows on our laps), we all sat around nursing beers and talking about sex. As five grown men do.
Orlando admitted that he was gay, and had been since he was 19. Elijah was straight, but had entertained a few thoughts of men. Viggo was gay, for nearly 9 years at that point. Billy admitted he wasn’t sure. He’d never been with a man, but the idea occasionally appealed.
It was then Orlando shocked us all by getting up off the couch and asked us if we wanted a beer. We said yes, and then before he left the room, he leant down and placed a sound kiss on Viggo’s lips, who sat on the floor.
Poor Viggo looked like he’d been electrocuted as Orlando flounced (yes, flounced) form the room, leaving Billy, Elijah and I are to sit there blushing, trying to swallow our laughter.
But after that, Viggo and Orlando became natural, normal.
That all seems like so long ago. It was only a year or so.
I sometimes look at Billy, watch him silently when we’re out in a bar or pub, I just watch to see if he checks out women…or men. It’s hard to determine, but maybe I try too hard to notice.
I guess I’m holding too tightly to the hope that he might be gay, or at least bisexual.
God, what am I saying? I’m trying to make myself believe things that aren’t true.
Billy doesn’t love me, never will.
Depressing thoughts are become more frequent in this thing.
Author:
jettabugPairing: Monaboyd
Rating: R for swearing
Feedback: Please!
Author's Notes: I don't know where this came from, it's just a journal in Dom's POV about the last few weeks of fliming in New Zealand.
Summary: Dom's journal.
by Jenna
I hate starting new pages.
There’s this horrible pressure to it. Don’t know why.
Anyway, no bother. I can ramble, I’m known for it.
Today is officially the 28th day before filming for The Lord Of The Rings is over.
I have no idea whether that’s a hideously depressing thought, or a relief I never knew it would be.
I hate the idea that this is all ending. I hate the notion that I’m going to leave this beautiful country soon. I hate that these people I’ve gotten to know won’t be down the hall or next to me in make-up.
Is it just me or is this particularly hard? We all knew when we signed on the dotted line that these days would come, that it would be time to say goodbye, even if we didn’t want to. But it just seems so much tougher and more painful than I thought it would be.
Or maybe it’s having this effect on me because I’ve let myself get too attached to this whole experience.
But, it’s very likely I feel this way because I’m sitting alone in my room, it’s late at night and I’m feeling sorry for myself.
It’s incredibly tempting to call Bill, wake him up so he’ll curse at me with that Scottish accent. Something even more tempting to do would be to prank call Orlando, but that can get old fast.
So I’ll just settle for writing whatever floats into my head. For example, I’m listening to Coldplay, thinking about what work I’ve got to do tomorrow. Pick-ups, and lots of them.
Don’t get me wrong, I love working, I love everything that has come with this experience, but things like pick-ups in front of a green screen in a really hot and sweaty warehouse is not my idea of a fun day.
But you take the good with the bad, right? I don’t really have a choice, but even if I did, I still think I’d show up to do it. It wouldn’t be this amazing if it were perfect all the time, would it?
However, there are many things to look forward to. Our THREE-DAY weekend coming up. Can you believe it, three days? I think the longest we’ve had off so far is three hours, so this is really a blessing. Elijah, Billy and I are going surfing, and then out to dinner with Orlando, Sean, Viggo, the other Sean and some other cast members. It’ll sorta be our goodbye before the goodbye.
That sucks. Goodbye. But I suppose it won’t be like goodbye forever, there are always premieres, press conferences, the Golden Globes, Oscar’s. Lots to do.
But it still doesn’t take away the finality of it all.
Doesn’t take away that I’m harbouring feelings that I can’t begin to explain.
Yes, I’m still head over heels in love. And I have 28 days to tell them how I feel.
How in the hell do you turn to your best friend and tell them you love them?
Scary thing of the day: I was in the make-up chair this morning, playing with an eyeliner pencil, when, without realising it, I began writing D.M for B.B on my forearm. I mean, I was sitting there, fiddling with it, and then all of a sudden writing that on myself.
Wasn’t until I actually noticed did I panic. But of course, it’s eyeliner, so it didn’t really rub off. I was trying to spit on my arm discreetly, because if Naomi had noticed what I’d written, I’d be a dead man. And, as if God was against me, it was liquid-proof eyeliner. The fucking thing stained my arm.
So I just put my Merry shirt on and kept the sleeves rolled down all day. I can still faintly see the outlines of the letters, and even now, after the near death experience I might’ve had with them, they still make me smile.
It just shows that I think about him even when I’m not thinking at all.
So now comes the debacle: Do I tell Billy how I feel, or do I leave it, possibly letting go of the only chance I have to reveal my true feelings?
I hate all this, stupid high school crush pressure bullshit.
So perhaps I’ll just stick to pouring my heart out in here. It seems lately, this journal has become my saviour. I think if I didn’t have these pages to fill with my ramblings and obsession with Bill, I woulda cracked by now and blurted everything out. And that can’t be a good thing.
Or could it?
I’m so confused I could scream!
I don’t know if I mentioned it in a previous entry, but I’ve been working on this letter for a while. My letter to Billy. So far, this is what I have:
Dear Bill,
I think it needs a bit more before it’s finished.
But what to write? Something trivial about the weather, or our favourite bands? Or something more deep and meaningful, like what it has meant to get to know him over the years.
I hate indecision. I resolved when I came to New Zealand not to let my fears and insecurities stand in front of what I want. But then I met Billy, and it all went downhill from there. I don’t know why I was so scared in the beginning to tell him how I felt, I guess we became such good friends so quick, I convinced myself not to do anything abut the way I felt.
I hate that little voice in the back of my head. I wish I could have it removed. I hate how it sounds just like my mother. This nagging, incessant voice that always tells me I’m doing the wrong thing, which is strange, because my mother is the complete opposite of that.
I hate that I push my feelings to the side when I’m with him, and just play around like always, like we’re best friends, completely in tune with each other. He just makes me so nervous. My hands shake when I write his name, when I write anything about him. When I think about him, when I talk about him with Elijah or Orlando.
I hate that I can only tell him I love him when I’m completely smashed. And he always says it back, because he does love me. Not in the way I want him to, though. I hate that he has such an effect over me, because sometimes, I wish I didn’t love him like I do. I wish that I could be free from the intoxication of his voice, the way it floats through the air and hits my ear full force, and makes goose flesh appear on my skin, and sends a shiver down my back.
Or the way he looks at me when I’m talking to me, his green eyes boring perfectly into my grey ones. He just mesmerises me. I haven’t felt this way in forever. Never have I looked at someone and immediately thought that I would die for them. I have never loved someone so much my heart physically hurt to look at them and know that they would never want you like you wanted them. I’ve never felt that skipping heartbeat before, that only happens when their name is mentioned or when you see them first thing in the morning. I’ve never cried as hard as I do now that I’m in love.
Billy Boyd is this amazing creature of perfection. He doesn’t know it though. He goes on and on about his unlucky with love status, and it takes all of my self-control not to rebut that with a comment that would turn everyone’s cheeks red, and cause me to fall to the floor and die.
It’s just what he does to me. He makes me feel like I can do anything, but at the same time, without intention, he makes me feel the lowest I’ve ever been. Do you know what it feels like to look at someone you love with your whole heart and know that they will never look with complete passion or adoration? They will never hold you in their arms and whisper sweet poetry in your ear, and they won’t dance with you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, head resting on their shoulders. You will never spend an amazing night together, staying up talking until first light breaks.
And that breaks my heart.
I nearly want to hate him for making me feel this way, but I can’t. I could never hate Billy. I could never hate his affable laugh, and his dancing green eyes. Or his soft hair and his smooth hands. I couldn’t hate the way he snores when he’s asleep, or when he goes around and gives me a wedgie. I couldn’t hate how he’s always happy all the time, how nothing seems to affect him. I could never hate Billy, because Billy means the world to me.
And he will never know it.
If possible, I think my heart just broke again.
Now I know staying up late listening to Coldplay and REM was a bad idea, because now I’m crying, staining your pages. And I have to be up in five hours for a long-ass day of pick-ups and re-shoots. But I know I won’t be able to sleep. As soon as I close my eyes, I’ll see him.
Perhaps I could work on the letter I’ll never send. The letter was actually Orlando’s idea. No, I haven’t told him about Billy, I’m not crazy. Not that I don’t trust Orlando, its just Orlando is…Orlando. I merely told him I was having a few issues, and he told me writing a letter, to anyone, doesn’t matter who, its a cathartic experience. He told me that he used to write up to five letters a day after he broke his back, and it sorta made sense.
Why be angry and upset when you can get all of those feelings out on paper, to shelve them away, and never have to look at them again.
Orlando used to write to Santa. It’s a little funny, and I have to admit when he told me, I chuckled. But he said, in the end, it didn’t matter whose name was after the “Dear”, all it mattered was that you got it all out of your head and onto paper. So, I’ve decided to give it a go, like I mentioned before, I have the “Dear Billy” part down, all I need is an opener.
But really, it doesn’t have to make sense, considering I’ll be the only one reading it.
Maybe after I finish it, I’ll get really drunk and give it to Bill.
I know Ian would encourage that. He’s been out and proud for years now. I suppose, it should be that easy for me, considering I’ve been out for four years now. God, it seems like yesterday.
But it’s not that easy. I’ve never had a boyfriend; I’ve never had my first gay kiss. Seems a little unbelievable, doesn’t it? That I’ve been out of the closet for four years and I haven’t even gone as far to hold hands with another man?
Yeah, it is weird.
I guess, I didn’t really know any gay people in Manchester. It’s not as thought there’s a special club with a Members Only t-shirt. Ian was the first gay man I’d met. And of course, Orlando and Viggo, who have been secretly seeing each other since 2001. And Elijah admitted to finding Orlando attractive after an all-night drinking session. Even Billy admitted his tendencies to watch guys in the shower at the gym.
But yet, that doesn’t comfort me in the least. Billy could be as camp as a roll of tents, and I don’t think I could tell him how I feel.
I remember the night that we all found out Viggo and Orlando together. It was the night we all admitted our sexual preference.
We were all at Viggo’s apartment in Wellington, sprawled over his living room, watching TV, when Queer As Folk came on. I’d seen the UK version a few times, but this American version…had all us guys squirming in our seats before the opening credits began to roll.
After the show (by then, some or all of us had pillows on our laps), we all sat around nursing beers and talking about sex. As five grown men do.
Orlando admitted that he was gay, and had been since he was 19. Elijah was straight, but had entertained a few thoughts of men. Viggo was gay, for nearly 9 years at that point. Billy admitted he wasn’t sure. He’d never been with a man, but the idea occasionally appealed.
It was then Orlando shocked us all by getting up off the couch and asked us if we wanted a beer. We said yes, and then before he left the room, he leant down and placed a sound kiss on Viggo’s lips, who sat on the floor.
Poor Viggo looked like he’d been electrocuted as Orlando flounced (yes, flounced) form the room, leaving Billy, Elijah and I are to sit there blushing, trying to swallow our laughter.
But after that, Viggo and Orlando became natural, normal.
That all seems like so long ago. It was only a year or so.
I sometimes look at Billy, watch him silently when we’re out in a bar or pub, I just watch to see if he checks out women…or men. It’s hard to determine, but maybe I try too hard to notice.
I guess I’m holding too tightly to the hope that he might be gay, or at least bisexual.
God, what am I saying? I’m trying to make myself believe things that aren’t true.
Billy doesn’t love me, never will.
Depressing thoughts are become more frequent in this thing.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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and waiting...
and w a i t i n g . . .
for the next part. So you'd better write it quick!
Please?
Okay, but actual feedback. I love Dom writing on his arm with eyeliner. It's just so very Dom and so very somebody who's in love with his best friend. (I should know; I was in love with my best friend for like, two whole years.) And I love the sort of last-month-of-high-school-plus-maturity feel it has. That Viggo and Orlando bit was fantastic! And there are just enough hints of Billy's behavior toward Dom that it gave me fluttery jitters about what's to come.
By the by: where'd you get your username? I used to have a Jetta. It was made in 1987 and died a couple months ago because the transmission fluid leak finally became too big to deal with. Poor car. Loved it.
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i liked the writing in eyeliner on his arm and i love the "Dear Billy" start with nothing after. those are two v. visual parts in the story that stand out!
Goodgood job on this one!
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I used to really like Jetta's, and was fascinated by the word "jitterbug". So, I corporated them! I just thought jettabug sounded cool!
Again, thanks for your comment! :)
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I'm glad you liked the story!
I hope you're getting back online soon! I miss my Chris!
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