Repose Memories (reposememories) wrote in repose, @ 2017-06-11 21:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | patrick gunster, ~plot: memories |
[memory]
What: Memory
Will characters be viewing the memory or experiencing it?: Experiencing
Warning, this memory contains: Dark imagery. Self-hatred.
He comes with bags and brushes and fuck, it feels like a betrayal. This little slice of heaven that you had finally carved out felt like it was imploding in upon itself, crumbling away into nothing you can hold onto.
You see the shared smiles, and you know you see something blossoming between them, a bullet in your chest that throbs and aches, and you swear you're bleeding out while they smile and a tour is given. You want to scream out loud, to shout that this isn't okay, that this isn't the way it's supposed to be, but really, you're just a guest here too. An intruder. And maybe your place here isn't as secure as you thought it to be.
Your chest hurts, aches, and your mind spirals into the darkness that's always threatening to pull you back down into its embrace. They're talking behind you, laughing, and that feeling of being a third wheel pounds you down. You don't belong here anymore. This isn't your home. You were just a stray, a pet project, someone who had been taken in, bathed, and given all your shots, and now the newness has worn off and someone else has come to take your place.
You're already packing your bags, at least mentally, as you lock yourself in your room. The lights are shut, the curtains drawn, the room cold and dark. You find a corner to sit in, knees drawn up, arms over your head, and the first sob erupts like a cough from your chest.
Will you ever be enough? Will you ever satisfy someone to the point where they don't need anyone else but you? Or will this always be the same story being told, over and over again, never exclusive, never The One that fills someone else to overflowing. There's something defective in you, something wrong and rotten, and your fingers dig into the fabric of your shirt, nails biting into the skin beneath. You try to muffle the sobs, the anguish that fills your mind, the spiral of darkness that pulls up around you and drowns you.
There's laughter outside. Happy conversations. People who belong.
And fuck, you want to be part of that.