Post by Kunabee on Apr 23, 2013 14:28:36 GMT -5
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Keep your head up and don't let them know you. Ever. Keep yourself wrapped in your bubblewrap, untouchable. Words that perhaps she needed to hear long ago, to reach some sort of understanding or feeling. Maybe then she wouldn't be hidden in some muddy grass, turned into a mess by the terrain. Not like the white-furred serval cared, but really it was sad. She had a gorgeous coat, and here she was, mussing it all up for some stupid reason of fear.
Fear was what powered her. Be scared, always; run, always. An outside onlooker would be disgusted by how easily startled the little feline was.
She was also too thin. She hadn't been eating lately - well; that wasn't exactly true. She had been eating a little bit, but it would always promptly be thrown up. So now she hid from everyone, withdrawing into her own world, caught in her own viciously dark thoughts.
Kyklee
I felt the mud coating my paws, my stomach. I wonder if I could cover myself completely in mud, as if that would hide my emotions. My firing, piercing, painful thoughts, the way it's echoing in my head. It's hurting me, the layers of guilt and darkness. The regrets of a past I can't change.
The way I ran, the way I fought, the way things continue to fall apart. Like a broken monster - no, not a monster, I have to keep reminding myself of that, and it hurts - like a broken creature, rather, I fled in my terror. I starve in my hate.
And now here I am, pathetic, crying. No tears escape my solemn face, empty of all emotion. It is inside that I suffer, locked off from everything.
I wonder, idly, how long it will take my pride mates to notice I'm gone. Maybe they never will. Guiltily, I take great joy in the thought.
I have hit all-time lows. Even I am not blind to it.
Keep your head up and don't let them know you. Ever. Keep yourself wrapped in your bubblewrap, untouchable. Words that perhaps she needed to hear long ago, to reach some sort of understanding or feeling. Maybe then she wouldn't be hidden in some muddy grass, turned into a mess by the terrain. Not like the white-furred serval cared, but really it was sad. She had a gorgeous coat, and here she was, mussing it all up for some stupid reason of fear.
Fear was what powered her. Be scared, always; run, always. An outside onlooker would be disgusted by how easily startled the little feline was.
She was also too thin. She hadn't been eating lately - well; that wasn't exactly true. She had been eating a little bit, but it would always promptly be thrown up. So now she hid from everyone, withdrawing into her own world, caught in her own viciously dark thoughts.
Kyklee
I felt the mud coating my paws, my stomach. I wonder if I could cover myself completely in mud, as if that would hide my emotions. My firing, piercing, painful thoughts, the way it's echoing in my head. It's hurting me, the layers of guilt and darkness. The regrets of a past I can't change.
The way I ran, the way I fought, the way things continue to fall apart. Like a broken monster - no, not a monster, I have to keep reminding myself of that, and it hurts - like a broken creature, rather, I fled in my terror. I starve in my hate.
And now here I am, pathetic, crying. No tears escape my solemn face, empty of all emotion. It is inside that I suffer, locked off from everything.
I wonder, idly, how long it will take my pride mates to notice I'm gone. Maybe they never will. Guiltily, I take great joy in the thought.
I have hit all-time lows. Even I am not blind to it.
