Dear Diary,

First off, I'd like to start by saying that this whole diary thing is bullshit. That's right, Dr. Beckett, if something happens to me and you end up reading this, I can pretty much guarantee it happened because I've been so annoyed by writing in your stupid journal that I've finally snapped. I say finally, because I've been getting ready to for quite some time.

I bet you didn't know that, Doctor. And I bet you I'm way more qualified as a shrink than you are, considering how much time I've spent talking to them. But let's not go into my medical records right now. I mean, I've already rehashed that stuff once (twice if you count all those god awful hearings) and this is neither the time nor the place.

What I guess I should talk about is what currently driving me crazy. I'm over all the stuff that happened in Afghanistan, though I don't know why I'm bothering to tell you that, because I doubt you'll believe me But it's hard to think about petty things like oh-I-don't-know death and destruction when your brain is too damn crowded with thoughts of a certain scientist with nerves of rubber, an ego the size of . . . well, something really big, and the inexplicable ability to get on your nerves, sometimes even through walls and across radio waves.

And they're not pretty thoughts either. Well, actually, a certain part of my anatomy finds them pretty, but I'm talking to you and not my dick, so its opinions are irrelevent. That's right, you heard . . . er, read, my thoughts right. I'm having 'naughty' throughts about Dr. Rodney McKay, the geek we all know and love/hate.

And it's not sane. It's like being attracted to bumblebees or jellyfish or rabid chipmunks or something that you really shouldn't get close to and is a royal pain in the ass if you do. Living on this base is like living in a goddamn fishbowl, and while I had all the space in the world down in McMurdo, up here, people actually have a reason to come seek me out.

So I've been pressed and compressed until all my emotions are squashed together and spontaneously mating. Which, leads to me turning my annoyance into attraction . . . or something like that. Transference, maybe? No, that's not right. I don't know all the fancy psychobable terms, but I know there must be a name for this. Cabin fever . . . except that sounds like a bad porno.

So, anyway. Today in the lab, when I was touching this oddly phallic shaped object to see if I could light it up, I just screwed up. I was so busy trying not to think of this blackish oblisk thing as a penis, that I totally forgot that Rodney is 100% straight, as strangely effeminate as he can sometimes be. And I patted him on the ass. Not in a 'hey we just won the big football game hurrah' sort of way either. In a, 'wow, break me off a piece of that girlfriend' flaiming queer way. And, that . . . well, that hasn't come out since I was milling around L.A. looking pretty and hoping some buff venice beach muscle man would fuck me until I could just forget . . . but we're not talking about the past right now.

And he froze. He was so tense I swear he was going to hurt himself just standing like that. And he turned and scowled at me and said 'That's not funny, Major.' I've known Rodney for a while now, and I know that even when he thinks he's being professional, he's doesn't do chilly calm and collected professional. But he did it then and walked out.

And I haven't talked to him since. Back at McMurdo I would have just avoided the person. I never hide, but I'm pretty damned good at avoiding, even in a closed environment. How else do you think I dealt with ex-boyfriend? They couldn't stand to see me, so they left. I outlasted all of them.

But here, there's nowhere for Rodney to go, and I'm pretty much required to deal with him. I can't move on, delete his image from my mind, or even clear it with a string of mindless one night stands. There's no escape and I'm going to go insane. Stark raving mad, that's the official shrinkspeak term for it.

But that's not the scary part. The scary part is that I think I would be worse off if he could trully get away from me.