“It’s not personal.”
Maybe it was childish, I dunno—I just knew I was grinning and it was a bitter thing spreading across my face like that, but I was in no mood to really debate it, or fix it, or whatever. I knew you tried; I knew you really tried to cheer me up with all those dicks. And it worked for a while. But dicks can only get you so far in life and this b u l l s h i t was stickin’ around in my head for far too long.
I could still feel it—the shift, the pause, the stillness (the stillness the stillness the stillness nothing’s moving nothing’s moving nothing’s moving nothing’s—) and it was breaking my mind into two pieces. But it was such a familiar feeling though, which is where the bitterness was coming from. This helplessness, this ignorance that came with a shift in the world that only you could feel (only you could fix). But how do you fix it if you’re the only one who feels it?
How do you fix it if you don’t even know what?
Or how?
Or why?
(But you’re Godsblood, you should know EVERYTHING—)
And maybe the grin was from a rare treat, a strange, immature triumph in knowing that I wasn’t the crazy one. I wasn’t the only one in this mess, who saw it as a mess.
And it was Know-It-All-Bitch who was having the epiphany. Even better. (Guess you don’t know it all, huh? All that leaves is the BITCH part)
I came upon her, lit up by blue flames and a dirty, dirty look in my eye. Sly and knowing, cuz I knew what was going on up there if that shout of hers was anything to judge by. “They’ll do this to you a lot,” I said, hissing it, unlike me because I never have this feeling of I told you so, “They’ll just…fuck it all up and be on their way, or somethin’ will fuck up, or whatever, and somehow we gotta fix the shit, or just hold down the fort until they get back—but they never explain it or try to teach shit. We’re just supposed to know. We’re just supposed to handle it.”
I gave an ugly snort—and stomped behind me, kicking flint from underneath my hooves. Pissed.
[SHOO KIDS AVERT YOUR EYES]
talk
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[O] Believe
