It doesn't really matter.
You don't shut up, you don't listen, you don't back down, you make claims without thinking them through, you can't take a hint when a conversation's over, you're selfish, you sing opera, you pry into things that aren't your business, you always have to be right- you're too stubborn for your own good, you're too slow in battle, hell, you're too slow getting ready to go anywhere, you snore, you hog an entire bed when you sleep, you think you're more important than you really are (you're not, you're expendable), you think you're smarter than you really are (and you try proving this in every other post), you let your emotions get in the way too much... Do I have to go on or are you satisfied yet?
That's the longest thing Clyde ever wrote. And look what it was.
He had a strange way of expressing himself. He never was very sociable. He smiled at me often, and it never felt patronizing or insincere. It was a real smile, a soft and shy and truly affectionate one. Or at least... that's the smile I remember. I'm beginning to question those memories, though. I'm beginning to question everything now. But still, I always wanted to ask 'Shadow': "Do you love me, Clyde? Even the littlest bit?" I think I just got my answer.
This shouldn't affect me; it really shouldn't! But I am filled with an almost paralyzing sense of self-doubt. What if... my mother feels the same way? What if she hates me for the crisp Vectorian accent I slip back into when I'm excited? What if she hates me for Maranda, for Doma and the brief occupation of Tzen?
I suppose... it doesn't really matter. I've been searching for purpose and meaning in life since I lost Leo and the world went to hell in a handbasket all in one day. You know what I've figured out? If there is any point in all of us being here at all, it's to test the strength of our hearts by putting us through as much pain and sorrow as we humans can bear, and sometimes more. Sometimes so much that... we just want to die.
I've always wondered what it would be like to be hit by a train. Or to fall to my death. It's a pity that I can only choose one.