Rooms' Halloween Memories Tasting (roomstasting) wrote in rooms, @ 2014-11-05 21:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | *narrative, plot: halloween |
halloween: reveal
WHO: Long road
WHAT: Reveal
WARNING: brief mention of suicide and swear, mostly angst
He was in his bed for once. He'd been testing it out, and it was starting to be comforting enough to use regularly. He didn't jump or panic, simply opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. The drinking had been useless, like he expected, but he'd never wanted to be drunk more in his life. The hotel was relentless. At first he was glad he was in his own body at least, but mind games were so much worse. For someone who valued his privacy, this was beyond a nightmare. He drank nearly everything, so he remembered. All of his, and it was ugly, it was cutting out the worst elements of his life and putting it on display. There was a particular sadness deep in his bones about his mother, because he didn't realize until then how little he remembered her. In his memory it was more clear, her face, the sound of his voice, but he forgot a long time ago. On purpose. The suicide attempt reminder filled him with longing, which he squashed, but he did know it was possible now. It was in his mind more than he could admit, because he knew no one would understand.
If he had a self esteem to speak of it would be in tatters, but he didn't have much of one. He was laid bare and anyone could have seen his humiliation, and they probably did. Maybe he drank too many emotions because he was feeling numb instead of anything in particular, or maybe pain was what he knew best of all, so this felt normal. He was starting to think the hotel did him a favor. He was delusional before this, he was an idiot, such a fucking idiot Banner, and he thought he actually mattered. He was completely fooled into thinking his current life was a certain way, but he was wrong. Everything was adding up in his logical mind, pointing to the fact he was always a temporary balm to an injury made by someone else. Now she had that someone else so the temporary part he played was over. The past few months, if he hadn't reached out to beg for scraps, she would've forgotten he existed entirely. That's how it was, and that's who he was. He got it now, so he could worry less. Stop obsessing. Move on. Stop begging.
He wasn't even angry about it. Seriously. After looking through all the darkness and bad situations, a little heartbreak was low on the totem pole of problems. He was much more anxious about the other parts of his head being peered into than him having unrequited feelings, a lot of people experienced that at some point in their life. Everyone was on the same boat right then, their souls broken open, their privacy lost. He was going to stay in his apartment until he could bear seeing another person, but at least he wasn't running. He actually had people to check up on now, and that was good, better than it was a year ago, when all of this happened for the first time. He sighed and got out of bed, walking into the living room. He was still in his formal wear, which was weird as hell, so he shed the pieces of it he could. His rescued pigeon was in there and he broke some bread for her, sitting down on the floor nearby. She was scrawny and slightly feral, and imprinted on anyone that showed her kindness, and he related. He was fairly used to this type of misery, so that could be why he didn't care that much either way.
Like he told the other man, who he suspected he knew very well, another day, another existential crisis.