[the tone that comes from her is soft, but has a scalpel's edge. bitter as black coffee, sharp and piercing, brittle as bones. she is tired, and everything adds up little by little.
it shouldn't come out. but this is a crack in the dam of everything she was holding for weeks upon weeks. terror and fear and sorrow and sleepless nights, nightmares where there is no rest to be found. she hurts, and she knows it needs to end, and she can't find the exit, the relief. just a needle to heal herself, the same bruises, pressed into over and over.]
Do you think this is fun for me? Do you think I take great personal joy in it? Do you think I do it for accolades? I am not some martyr rejoicing in what occurs - I do this because I have to. You do not understand, and you could not, even if I explained it. Everything I do, I do because I have to. And you speak like I have some degree of a choice about it. As if I wanted it.
[it chokes her, fills her, ruins her, it's weapons left in her flesh and the endless sound of rain, it's the most repulsive hunger and wishing she could tear herself to pieces, it's wanting to disappear like the others did if only so that people stop asking, for just a moment. she has nothing, and she still gives more.]
Do not speak to me like you understand me. If you do not mean what you say, then do not voice it at all, and save yourself the trouble. I did not ask you to be kind to me, to waste your breath and your time and your arguments.
[if she's trembling, it's from the force required to not raise her voice. to not scream and tear at herself because she hates it, hates it, hates herself so much right now that she'd dash herself to pieces if she could just punish herself for this.
reach out and hit her, hurt her. scare her. do something, anything, make her actually suffer. she wants it - she needs it. it was so much easier when she could die every day if she chose. do something, because she's in agony, and wants to cut her own throat for saying this. for breathing a word of it. for letting anything show.]
no subject
[the tone that comes from her is soft, but has a scalpel's edge. bitter as black coffee, sharp and piercing, brittle as bones. she is tired, and everything adds up little by little.
it shouldn't come out. but this is a crack in the dam of everything she was holding for weeks upon weeks. terror and fear and sorrow and sleepless nights, nightmares where there is no rest to be found. she hurts, and she knows it needs to end, and she can't find the exit, the relief. just a needle to heal herself, the same bruises, pressed into over and over.]
Do you think this is fun for me? Do you think I take great personal joy in it? Do you think I do it for accolades? I am not some martyr rejoicing in what occurs - I do this because I have to. You do not understand, and you could not, even if I explained it. Everything I do, I do because I have to. And you speak like I have some degree of a choice about it. As if I wanted it.
[it chokes her, fills her, ruins her, it's weapons left in her flesh and the endless sound of rain, it's the most repulsive hunger and wishing she could tear herself to pieces, it's wanting to disappear like the others did if only so that people stop asking, for just a moment. she has nothing, and she still gives more.]
Do not speak to me like you understand me. If you do not mean what you say, then do not voice it at all, and save yourself the trouble. I did not ask you to be kind to me, to waste your breath and your time and your arguments.
[if she's trembling, it's from the force required to not raise her voice. to not scream and tear at herself because she hates it, hates it, hates herself so much right now that she'd dash herself to pieces if she could just punish herself for this.
reach out and hit her, hurt her. scare her. do something, anything, make her actually suffer. she wants it - she needs it. it was so much easier when she could die every day if she chose. do something, because she's in agony, and wants to cut her own throat for saying this. for breathing a word of it. for letting anything show.]