That's the guidance the last world gave to us, is it not?
[The phrase they both know by heart: * But nobody came.
Talking to their parents changed nothing. Got them ever-so-sincere tearful confessionals about how they had it so much worse when they were kids, about how they're the scum of the earth, how you must hate them, how they should just die if you hate them so much. Sorry you don't understand, sorry you can't recognize you'll thank me someday, sorry you feel that way. And maybe there will be a respite, for a while. Just long enough for you to start getting too exhausted to tiptoe, just long enough to think maybe you can breathe, and then the shoe drops and it starts all over again.
Talking to other people changed nothing. Runaways get taken home to their parents. This is all part of god's plan for you, it's happening to you for a reason. I'm sure your parents still love you. I'm sure it won't happen again. Are you sure that's how it really happened? Those are dangerous accusations to level at someone, Chara. You could ruin your parents' lives, Chara. Do you really want to put them through that, or is this about getting attention?
So you swallow every word you're fed down, don't you? Accept the futility of "I didn't do anything wrong" and "I don't like this" and "this is going to kill me someday." Stop repeating phrases that keep only being met with averted eyes and excuses. Start thinking it must be right, then, when they say they're doing this to you because you made them. Start thinking it really is happening because you're bad. Start buying into the idea that this is what God wants your life to be, and who are you to say that's not good enough for you?]
Nobody ever listened. Nobody ever explained it to us, did they? We were never told that it wasn't just, wasn't fair, wasn't right. We were never told to expect ourselves to be a factor worth weighing. We just had to listen to their justifications as to why it was right that we were hurt. We had to figure out for ourselves why it was happening to us.
[So is it so surprising, really, that the conclusion they stumbled toward was "I deserve it?"]
I'm... still afraid, even now, that I will not be able to escape this cycle. That nothing I do will spare anyone from the fact that caring about me ruins their lives.
[Once bitten, twice shy. Four times bitten... eight times shy? Maybe the saying doesn't hold up.]
It just made so much sense to... do as the world told me to do. If we're really friends, you won't come back. You're not welcome. Kids like you should be burning in hell. Let them go. Let Frisk be happy. I had already seen that everyone I had ever - had ever cared about... they were all able to move on. They found something else to fill their lives, so that there was no empty space left behind by my absence.
[The world doesn't stop without you. A fact they'd slowly come to accept. Asriel had made it clear enough that it was better to be able to move on, hadn't he? How strange it is, then, that Frisk should treat them like they're so important. That Sans would ask whether they wanted to keep living, when it had already been made so clear that living would be nothing but an imposition, an intrusion, a sword of Damocles hovering over all these perfectly happy people.]
We've been here so long, but... even so, do either of us truly have any frame of reference for what it's like to exist outside that circle of hurting?
[What it's like to just... be normal? To exist without the looming shadow of we just weren't ready for the responsibility or we never wanted you here, no one did coloring every thought? To not have a fresh start marred by a knife scraping against Sans' sternum or an arm held down as a rock was raised? To not think of yourself as a land mine, a time-bomb, something just waiting to repay a selfless gift with a broken SPELL or sharpened stake driving through flesh?
...Frisk doesn't mind. They close the last bit of distance, press forehead to forehead, a seamless blend of darker and lighter brown bangs cushioning the two.]
I'm so afraid that we're already ruined, Frisk. That we've been... broken. Doomed. That we cannot be anything but what our pasts have bent us into.
[Like a LV that you can never reset. Violence leaves a mark, and it disqualifies you utterly from deserving a happy ending. Everyone you meet will only be set back by you. Hurts, doesn't it?]
no subject
[The phrase they both know by heart:
* But nobody came.
Talking to their parents changed nothing. Got them ever-so-sincere tearful confessionals about how they had it so much worse when they were kids, about how they're the scum of the earth, how you must hate them, how they should just die if you hate them so much. Sorry you don't understand, sorry you can't recognize you'll thank me someday, sorry you feel that way. And maybe there will be a respite, for a while. Just long enough for you to start getting too exhausted to tiptoe, just long enough to think maybe you can breathe, and then the shoe drops and it starts all over again.
Talking to other people changed nothing. Runaways get taken home to their parents. This is all part of god's plan for you, it's happening to you for a reason. I'm sure your parents still love you. I'm sure it won't happen again. Are you sure that's how it really happened? Those are dangerous accusations to level at someone, Chara. You could ruin your parents' lives, Chara. Do you really want to put them through that, or is this about getting attention?
So you swallow every word you're fed down, don't you? Accept the futility of "I didn't do anything wrong" and "I don't like this" and "this is going to kill me someday." Stop repeating phrases that keep only being met with averted eyes and excuses. Start thinking it must be right, then, when they say they're doing this to you because you made them. Start thinking it really is happening because you're bad. Start buying into the idea that this is what God wants your life to be, and who are you to say that's not good enough for you?]
Nobody ever listened. Nobody ever explained it to us, did they? We were never told that it wasn't just, wasn't fair, wasn't right. We were never told to expect ourselves to be a factor worth weighing. We just had to listen to their justifications as to why it was right that we were hurt. We had to figure out for ourselves why it was happening to us.
[So is it so surprising, really, that the conclusion they stumbled toward was "I deserve it?"]
I'm... still afraid, even now, that I will not be able to escape this cycle. That nothing I do will spare anyone from the fact that caring about me ruins their lives.
[Once bitten, twice shy. Four times bitten... eight times shy? Maybe the saying doesn't hold up.]
It just made so much sense to... do as the world told me to do. If we're really friends, you won't come back. You're not welcome. Kids like you should be burning in hell. Let them go. Let Frisk be happy. I had already seen that everyone I had ever - had ever cared about... they were all able to move on. They found something else to fill their lives, so that there was no empty space left behind by my absence.
[The world doesn't stop without you. A fact they'd slowly come to accept. Asriel had made it clear enough that it was better to be able to move on, hadn't he? How strange it is, then, that Frisk should treat them like they're so important. That Sans would ask whether they wanted to keep living, when it had already been made so clear that living would be nothing but an imposition, an intrusion, a sword of Damocles hovering over all these perfectly happy people.]
We've been here so long, but... even so, do either of us truly have any frame of reference for what it's like to exist outside that circle of hurting?
[What it's like to just... be normal? To exist without the looming shadow of we just weren't ready for the responsibility or we never wanted you here, no one did coloring every thought? To not have a fresh start marred by a knife scraping against Sans' sternum or an arm held down as a rock was raised? To not think of yourself as a land mine, a time-bomb, something just waiting to repay a selfless gift with a broken SPELL or sharpened stake driving through flesh?
...Frisk doesn't mind. They close the last bit of distance, press forehead to forehead, a seamless blend of darker and lighter brown bangs cushioning the two.]
I'm so afraid that we're already ruined, Frisk. That we've been... broken. Doomed. That we cannot be anything but what our pasts have bent us into.
[Like a LV that you can never reset. Violence leaves a mark, and it disqualifies you utterly from deserving a happy ending. Everyone you meet will only be set back by you. Hurts, doesn't it?]