[She starts to type he didn't abuse us out of some gut-response; she can't get past he before she backspaces it out of existence, feeling her anger and guilt gnaw into each other until they're one. Of course that's what it was - she's pretty sure one of the therapists she saw called it as much. But it, like so many other things that therapist had to say to her, was hard to swallow. She'd stopped going not long after that session.
So is this, though, so maybe it was less the therapist and more the subject matter.
An ache is building in the back of her skull, and she finds herself rubbing at her ear in a sub-conscious turned conscious gesture that just intensifies the headache. There's too much circling, and she clenches her jaw to keep from - what, what is she afraid of, what is she always afraid of?
(Being heard. Being a nuisance. Existing.)
The desire to just let go of it - to disengage from all these terrible, miserable feelings, is massive. Nearly irresistible, because she felt it. At the Academy, at her apartment, the Icarus. She was playing the best she ever had, and it was - not because she didn't care, but because she'd let go of everything holding her back. The guilt, the fear, anyone's judgement on her own worth.
Resisting the urge to do it again is almost impossible.
Leaving her phone behind, Vanya slips out of bed to stand in front of her window, leaning her forehead against cool panes and watching her breath fog the glass. He wants to try - Diego, of all people, wants to try. What does it say about her if she won't let him?
It's a long while before she gets back to her device, and once it's in hand the text at least comes fast.]
no subject
So is this, though, so maybe it was less the therapist and more the subject matter.
An ache is building in the back of her skull, and she finds herself rubbing at her ear in a sub-conscious turned conscious gesture that just intensifies the headache. There's too much circling, and she clenches her jaw to keep from - what, what is she afraid of, what is she always afraid of?
(Being heard. Being a nuisance. Existing.)
The desire to just let go of it - to disengage from all these terrible, miserable feelings, is massive. Nearly irresistible, because she felt it. At the Academy, at her apartment, the Icarus. She was playing the best she ever had, and it was - not because she didn't care, but because she'd let go of everything holding her back. The guilt, the fear, anyone's judgement on her own worth.
Resisting the urge to do it again is almost impossible.
Leaving her phone behind, Vanya slips out of bed to stand in front of her window, leaning her forehead against cool panes and watching her breath fog the glass. He wants to try - Diego, of all people, wants to try. What does it say about her if she won't let him?
It's a long while before she gets back to her device, and once it's in hand the text at least comes fast.]
Okay. where do you wanna get lunch