[dream] [Week 15, day 5->6] No reasons left to believe
[You think, at first, that you've been here before, in this broken crazyquilt of a world.
Then you realize all the pieces the sky's split into are colors you'd see on earth. One filled with misty gray clouds that crouch close to the land, another bleached out by lights whose sources you can't see, yet another the pure blue of late autumn or early winter.
It's so quiet. Even when you cross one of the lines where the ground looks like it was shattered and stitched back together all askew, even when you step into drizzle that settles chill on your skin, the rain falls silently, and the wind makes no sound. There's the House looming up, too big, somehow still as much bigger than you as it was when you were eleven. The only thing close to home you've ever known, but even that felt impermanent, wavery, as if someone were going to pull it out from under you any second. Just like every other place.
"You shouldn't be dead! I fucking saved you!" You hear it, but you don't see the speaker, your best friend, your only friend who really gets what you've been through, and there's all this uncrossable distance between you. You put it there, you know.
And the patchwork world spins, and brings you to the sky with no stars, only neon. Morning, if you know that's what you're looking at, and you do. The morning you died. Silent again, the gunshots, and you see yourself fall and slump, see the cherry of your last cigarette drowned in blood. You feel heavier and heavier, as if the blood's not draining away from you, but pooling, filling you up, weighing you down.
Every step weighted as you walk away, and you don't know why. All you ever wanted was to be invisible, but you keep fucking falling into things, other people's battles made yours, because you care and you can't stop, even though you know... You know the minute you get attached to anything, it's snatched away. It's been like that your whole life. Don't get comfortable, Mail; this is just a rest stop.
Heavier and heavier, and the pure blue sky overhead could only be Kannagara, but the brightness of it is a mockery of the scene on the ground. The last fight, the one you missed, and they're all there, bloodied and beaten and needing you. "Change," they say. "Change and help us!"
"I can't! Don't you see I can't?" You've sworn not to. It only fucks everything up more. You don't know what you're doing with all this, and you'll let them down again, for all that they believe in you, and why?
It's so fucking heavy, and it hurts so much.
You know you don't deserve their faith.
The broken world spins, and you
And Matt blinks awake, covers his mouth to stifle a breath that's halfway to a sob. Blue eyes look directly at the Hitomi, widen in annoyance. Then fingers close around it, and it goes black.]
Then you realize all the pieces the sky's split into are colors you'd see on earth. One filled with misty gray clouds that crouch close to the land, another bleached out by lights whose sources you can't see, yet another the pure blue of late autumn or early winter.
It's so quiet. Even when you cross one of the lines where the ground looks like it was shattered and stitched back together all askew, even when you step into drizzle that settles chill on your skin, the rain falls silently, and the wind makes no sound. There's the House looming up, too big, somehow still as much bigger than you as it was when you were eleven. The only thing close to home you've ever known, but even that felt impermanent, wavery, as if someone were going to pull it out from under you any second. Just like every other place.
"You shouldn't be dead! I fucking saved you!" You hear it, but you don't see the speaker, your best friend, your only friend who really gets what you've been through, and there's all this uncrossable distance between you. You put it there, you know.
And the patchwork world spins, and brings you to the sky with no stars, only neon. Morning, if you know that's what you're looking at, and you do. The morning you died. Silent again, the gunshots, and you see yourself fall and slump, see the cherry of your last cigarette drowned in blood. You feel heavier and heavier, as if the blood's not draining away from you, but pooling, filling you up, weighing you down.
Every step weighted as you walk away, and you don't know why. All you ever wanted was to be invisible, but you keep fucking falling into things, other people's battles made yours, because you care and you can't stop, even though you know... You know the minute you get attached to anything, it's snatched away. It's been like that your whole life. Don't get comfortable, Mail; this is just a rest stop.
Heavier and heavier, and the pure blue sky overhead could only be Kannagara, but the brightness of it is a mockery of the scene on the ground. The last fight, the one you missed, and they're all there, bloodied and beaten and needing you. "Change," they say. "Change and help us!"
"I can't! Don't you see I can't?" You've sworn not to. It only fucks everything up more. You don't know what you're doing with all this, and you'll let them down again, for all that they believe in you, and why?
It's so fucking heavy, and it hurts so much.
You know you don't deserve their faith.
The broken world spins, and you
And Matt blinks awake, covers his mouth to stifle a breath that's halfway to a sob. Blue eyes look directly at the Hitomi, widen in annoyance. Then fingers close around it, and it goes black.]