>E, C. Pat pat!
>F,A) Regret, yours and theirs, that your most intimate connection with most people is so final. But its still a connection, so keep petting.
>F) HATRED.
>(And love)
>No matter how hard you try to crowd out the emotion with corruption, self-destruction, and willful ignorance, your heart boils with a gruesome, impossible ambition:
>You want Heaven to die. You want them to stop corrupting everything in the universe with sickly Light.
>A) Pet it more. You're in too deep.
>(And love)
>No matter how hard you try to crowd out the emotion with corruption, self-destruction, and willful ignorance, your heart boils with a gruesome, impossible ambition:
>You want Heaven to die. You want them to stop corrupting everything in the universe with sickly Light.
>A) Pet it more. You're in too deep.
>F) Admiration.
>B)
>B)
>C, A
>Lust, but not necessarily in a strictly sexual sense, but rather, desire. Desire for connection, desire to fill that explicitly human shaped hole that effectively *is* your being.
>When's the last time you operated outside of survival mode? When was the last time you had a break? A vacation where you didn't have to look over your shoulder constantly?
>When was the last time you got fucking sloshed with a friend you never worried would stab - or need to be stabbed by- you in the back later?
>When was the last time you shared a bed with someone in an encounter that didn't both begin and end with weeping, curses, and the weight of reality pressing down upon you both?
>When was the last time you had a real fucking hug?
>Infact, fuck petting that monster, fucking cuddle that thing.
>No matter how bloody or beastly it is, there comes a point where human desire crystalizes, metastisizes into a need- a point you crossed too long ago.
>You'll take what you can fucking get.
>Lust, but not necessarily in a strictly sexual sense, but rather, desire. Desire for connection, desire to fill that explicitly human shaped hole that effectively *is* your being.
>When's the last time you operated outside of survival mode? When was the last time you had a break? A vacation where you didn't have to look over your shoulder constantly?
>When was the last time you got fucking sloshed with a friend you never worried would stab - or need to be stabbed by- you in the back later?
>When was the last time you shared a bed with someone in an encounter that didn't both begin and end with weeping, curses, and the weight of reality pressing down upon you both?
>When was the last time you had a real fucking hug?
>Infact, fuck petting that monster, fucking cuddle that thing.
>No matter how bloody or beastly it is, there comes a point where human desire crystalizes, metastisizes into a need- a point you crossed too long ago.
>You'll take what you can fucking get.
>E, C. We really should know better than this.
>But we've made the worse decision. Possible.
>But we've made the worse decision. Possible.
You behold it. Will. Regret. Hatred. Love. Admiration. Lust. An amalgamation of emotions deep within you that dictate your very being. Your core.
Its ghastly, beastly, appearance can only reflect the hardships that have wounded you. That have wounded others. A unwanted host of your last intimate connections to countless victims. The soil and sprouted seeds of your hatred for Heaven, that spurn you with such an intense drive to tear down its sickly corrupting light. Your desires for a life that has not been within reach in so, so, long, suffocated into its mass. You cannot help but be human. You cannot help but want to be cared for. To be touched gently. No matter how much you try to destroy it.
You can count on your fingers the amount of encounters you've had that were even close to a break. A reprive. Momentary connections with people you've never seen again. You can count on one hand how many hugs you've received that ended well. When you allowed yourself the weakness.
Who are you when you are not a survivor? When was the last time you lived outside of the work? Your life has become an isolation, a dedication to a work that will not thank you, at the cost of human connection. But would you even be able to exist; to be a person with normal desires, connections, even friendships, if your paranoid mind allowed it? If your circumstances were to turn on its head, would love even be achievable without your complete unmaking?
When was the last time you even jerked off?
... Damn.