ǝɹnʇnɟ ǝɥʇ oʇuı ʞool ı ǝǝs ı puɐ ⅁ N I H ⊥ O N

I'm not going alone. 𝗬𝗼𝘂 are guiding me. The same 𝘆𝗼𝘂 I once knew. The 𝘆𝗼𝘂 that caused all that pain and strife. Even if it wasn't here... I was still so, so much stronger because of 𝘆𝗼𝘂. And now I was following your lead. As I was always designed to be. Who cares about a broken cage.

... Never deep enough to kill. But standing up might. After all, once I'm up. It only takes a handful of steps, before my feet get wet, my body shivers with cold, and I once again hear the chant. . . . Deeper and deeper we go. Until my feet can't touch the floor. Until breath loses hold.

There is no one in the world right now. Beyond this pathetic little thing. Bleeding out on the side of a lake. And you? You could have stopped me. And you have the gall to hate me? To pretend you don't hate me? This is why I let it hate you.

You'll never hear me talk.

... You really see it all. The only reason I'm not already gone from blood loss... is because I know time only passes if we "let" it. So I'm just waiting here. To see if anything will happen. . I already don't remember what I said.

A nod in agreement. There's no value in a shell's existence.

Keep smiling.

Forgotten.

I'll be joining you soon anyway. Soon as I get the guts.

"I hope you drowned." That's what it would say. Who am I to disagree? I don't even know what I'm doing here. Shouting into the sea. A pointless endevour. The dead can't hear me.

Did you let go? Did I let go? Does anyone know? I don't. "...'m just talking to the waves."

You lost it when you tried to see too far. Why'd I keep living?

"Nothing." Nobody.

You're alive beneath those waves. And you can hear me. Can't you? "...Even though 'm not talking."

I keep myself moving forwards. Step after step. Walking in an unfailing straight line, towards the destination which lingers faithfully in the back of my mind. Road turns to grass. Grass turns to dirt. Dirt turns to gravel. Gravel turns to sand. Again, I find myself here. The lake of my end.

I don't believe in anything. "...Not even myself." Because there's nothing to believe in.

ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ ǫᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴs@roleplayquestions.bsky.social · last mo.

Would you say that your muse believes in themselves?

"Do you remember how to speak?" The mirror asked as I passed, half asleep. ...Truthfully, I didn't have an answer for it anymore. Long had I been unable to truly understand that thing that looked back at me, long had I been unable to sympathize with the beast.