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03-06-2017, 11:55 AM
Яikyn I’m not trying to die, he says, finally something other than just angry, or moodily guarded; looking at him with hard eyes, I snort, and scoff simultaneously, my head bobbing with the release of air. "Could have fooled me," I mutter with disbelief, having felt enough annoyance at the continued jabs of his words (and felt, also, the agedness of his body, how time pulled and gnawed at him). It’s not like it would be that much a bitch move to want death, but its another thing to wallow about, weakly waiting for someone else to do it for you. It was easy to find a blaze to burn out in, and reprehensible to force another to ignite that fire for you. So, as he gathers his thoughts, eventually putting words to them, I stare, occasionally blinking, and take in what he does say with that same, empty expression; slowly, my lips tilt up into a smile. "The only rules that matter are your own," I almost chuckle, because it’s such a simple concept to me, one which has pretty much been a part of my philosophy all my life. Though others could tell me what to do, it was ultimately my fear or my weakness that had allowed their will to buckle my own; the only rules which had ever bound me were those I’d let take rule over me. I obeyed what I wanted, or what I forced to, through violence. "They, whoever that is, seem to know that. Do you?" there's no place to hide down here |
@Albrecht
