( sent sometime post revival, once she's got most of her head on straight. )
don't reply to this.
look. you don't have to protect me. and you don't have to feel bad about not protecting me. i'm kind of i'm not good at being protected. i don't know how else to say it. only bad things only ever happen to me, and it's always been that way. it didn't start with the crash. i just i'm a fuck up. right? dom killing me is probably the best thing that ever happened to me, and the best thing that ever happened to anyone who knew me. i don't think my mom would even notice if i never came home. i killed my dad, did i tell you that? just on accident. just put a bullet in his head. so the bad doesn't just stick with me, it infects everyone around me. my mom hasn't even looked at me since then. in the woods? i tried to be good, i tried to lead them and be fair, and then i fucking killed coach because it felt kinder than letting him live. and because he asked me to. and you died, too. that's three men i love who have all died. you wanted to protect me, even though you know it's pointless. i infected you too.
i just didn't want you to feel bad. you're never going to be able to protect me, because something terrible is always waiting to happen to me. it would've been better if i stayed dead. you know in the wilderness, they chose me. i was supposed to die. i keep thinking it would've been so much fucking easier if i just had.
anyway, don't reply. and don't feel bad. and if you want to stay away to protect yourself, i get it. that's it. love you.
I get it. Died three times now and one of these days I bet I'll stop kicking. And on that second one--
I chose it. Killed myself. Killed the version of me that slaughtered innocent people for a hundred years, just for the fun of it. Vampires don't have souls, you know. We don't feel a thing when we do what you did in the woods. What you did to your old man.
So I asked to get it back. Went through a funhouse mirror of people I've loved and people who've hurt me and picked the wrong doors, over and over, until I finally picked the right one and it was just me, there, in the end. Had to face myself. The self that felt it all, that regretted it, that knew every drop of pain he'd inflicted and knew what it would take to atone for it.
He killed me. And I crawled out of the dirt with my soul right back behind my ribs. And it made me want to die all over again.
So I know what it feels like, Nat. The torment of it. Hurting people you care about and even ones you don't. Not gonna tell you it gets better and not gonna tell you to stop wanting it to end. I want it to end, too.
But I'm not going anywhere. You've still got me. I'm here with you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@SCATORCCIO cw: suicidal ideation, patricide
don't reply to this.
look. you don't have to protect me. and you don't have to feel bad about not protecting me. i'm kind of
i'm not good at being protected. i don't know how else to say it. only bad things only ever happen to me, and it's always been that way. it didn't start with the crash. i just
i'm a fuck up. right? dom killing me is probably the best thing that ever happened to me, and the best thing that ever happened to anyone who knew me. i don't think my mom would even notice if i never came home.
i killed my dad, did i tell you that? just on accident. just put a bullet in his head. so the bad doesn't just stick with me, it infects everyone around me. my mom hasn't even looked at me since then. in the woods? i tried to be good, i tried to lead them and be fair, and then i fucking killed coach because it felt kinder than letting him live. and because he asked me to.
and you died, too. that's three men i love who have all died. you wanted to protect me, even though you know it's pointless. i infected you too.
i just didn't want you to feel bad. you're never going to be able to protect me, because something terrible is always waiting to happen to me. it would've been better if i stayed dead. you know
in the wilderness, they chose me. i was supposed to die. i keep thinking it would've been so much fucking easier if i just had.
anyway, don't reply. and don't feel bad. and if you want to stay away to protect yourself, i get it. that's it.
love you.
cw more suicide
I get it. Died three times now and one of these days I bet I'll stop kicking. And on that second one--
I chose it. Killed myself. Killed the version of me that slaughtered innocent people for a hundred years, just for the fun of it. Vampires don't have souls, you know. We don't feel a thing when we do what you did in the woods. What you did to your old man.
So I asked to get it back. Went through a funhouse mirror of people I've loved and people who've hurt me and picked the wrong doors, over and over, until I finally picked the right one and it was just me, there, in the end. Had to face myself. The self that felt it all, that regretted it, that knew every drop of pain he'd inflicted and knew what it would take to atone for it.
He killed me. And I crawled out of the dirt with my soul right back behind my ribs. And it made me want to die all over again.
So I know what it feels like, Nat. The torment of it. Hurting people you care about and even ones you don't. Not gonna tell you it gets better and not gonna tell you to stop wanting it to end. I want it to end, too.
But I'm not going anywhere. You've still got me. I'm here with you.