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( Lengthy introspection. Cut for necessary tl;dr. )
The more bullshit that came out of making that announcement, the more irritated he became with himself, until eventually locking himself in his room and waiting for more vitriol and asspats to come out of it just made him want to hurl his journal against the wall. He wasn't looking for sympathy. He wasn't looking to play the moral high ground. He was looking to manage to keep a tenable hold on the last thing he had left, which was the fact that no matter what he became, no matter how far he sank, he wasn't a monster. Whatever. Like he really cared. Like he was really here looking for anything other than a way out that he was too cowardly to get himself.
He wandered up onto the deck, putting himself as far away from everything as he could, and planted his hands on the railing, staring out into the nothing, a light breeze ruffling his hair slightly. He was stuck here- one way or another, he was stuck here. He was gonna have to keep going, biting down his irritation at being stuck in one place sandwiched between people he couldn't stand and people he knew he'd miss when this was all over and he had to go back.
Killing you would be like euthanasia. Putting down a rabid dog. You're nothing like them. They look down from heaven, see who you are and what you've done, shake their heads and say 'Hopless. Case.'
It's a cycle. It's why he never let himself care that much about anything since his family, because that was where it always ended up, wasn't it?
An archangel stood on the deck of the Barge, braced against the railing, and wondered if any part of this was going to get better.
The more bullshit that came out of making that announcement, the more irritated he became with himself, until eventually locking himself in his room and waiting for more vitriol and asspats to come out of it just made him want to hurl his journal against the wall. He wasn't looking for sympathy. He wasn't looking to play the moral high ground. He was looking to manage to keep a tenable hold on the last thing he had left, which was the fact that no matter what he became, no matter how far he sank, he wasn't a monster. Whatever. Like he really cared. Like he was really here looking for anything other than a way out that he was too cowardly to get himself.
He wandered up onto the deck, putting himself as far away from everything as he could, and planted his hands on the railing, staring out into the nothing, a light breeze ruffling his hair slightly. He was stuck here- one way or another, he was stuck here. He was gonna have to keep going, biting down his irritation at being stuck in one place sandwiched between people he couldn't stand and people he knew he'd miss when this was all over and he had to go back.
Killing you would be like euthanasia. Putting down a rabid dog. You're nothing like them. They look down from heaven, see who you are and what you've done, shake their heads and say 'Hopless. Case.'
It's a cycle. It's why he never let himself care that much about anything since his family, because that was where it always ended up, wasn't it?
An archangel stood on the deck of the Barge, braced against the railing, and wondered if any part of this was going to get better.
