09-23-2024, 06:27 PM
![[Image: MeYhyXS.png]](https://i.imgur.com/MeYhyXS.png)
"Snow?"
"You can barely keep yourself from falling into the dirt!"
"Snow and dirt... What does that make?"
"Ahaha! Snirt! Snirtfins!"
Date: Uner, Twenty Third.
Location: The Traverse.
I don't like to wallow in self pity often.
It's a repulsive thing that is often romanticized in novels. Something that is viewed as an 'obstacle to overcome' by most in New Atlantis.
Yet, today, here I am, finding myself wallowing in it like a parrot fish within it's own mucus. I pity myself. My own weakness. Because, in the end, that's all that I am. All that makes me, me. Failure, after failure, after failure. That is all I can see myself as. A miserable, whimpering, failure. Because, fundamentally, I am worthless. That's simply how things are, and how things will continue to be.
I've attempted to run from this fact for some time.
I made friends. Three. Four?
A number.
I hear their encouraging words, the way they treat me, the way they treat eachother - and I can't help but wonder... Why? Why is it that they believe in me in any regard? Why is it that they continue to hang around me, continue to interact warmly with me? And then - I understand the answer. I realize why they talk to me. They pity me. They pity the siren that can't swim. They pity the siren that can't talk normally. They pity the siren that can barely try to fight without screaming and running away.
They pity the stray minnow from New Atlantis.
I want to pretend I'm going to be fine. I want to pretend I'm going to keep moving. I want to pretend I'm strong enough to keep smiling, laughing, charging forwards like there's no tomorrow - but I'm just... Not that strong. I'm not strong enough to pretend I'm a warrior. I'm a coward. I'm a fraud. I'm nothing more than a simpering fool that hurts herself when a medic is trying to treat her... Or a coward that simply can't face down a man that's trying to cut her down.
I should have stayed at home.
Maybe then, I wouldn't have to trouble The Traverse with my presence.
I hate that I made them care.
Location: The Traverse.
I don't like to wallow in self pity often.
It's a repulsive thing that is often romanticized in novels. Something that is viewed as an 'obstacle to overcome' by most in New Atlantis.
Yet, today, here I am, finding myself wallowing in it like a parrot fish within it's own mucus. I pity myself. My own weakness. Because, in the end, that's all that I am. All that makes me, me. Failure, after failure, after failure. That is all I can see myself as. A miserable, whimpering, failure. Because, fundamentally, I am worthless. That's simply how things are, and how things will continue to be.
I've attempted to run from this fact for some time.
I made friends. Three. Four?
A number.
I hear their encouraging words, the way they treat me, the way they treat eachother - and I can't help but wonder... Why? Why is it that they believe in me in any regard? Why is it that they continue to hang around me, continue to interact warmly with me? And then - I understand the answer. I realize why they talk to me. They pity me. They pity the siren that can't swim. They pity the siren that can't talk normally. They pity the siren that can barely try to fight without screaming and running away.
They pity the stray minnow from New Atlantis.
I want to pretend I'm going to be fine. I want to pretend I'm going to keep moving. I want to pretend I'm strong enough to keep smiling, laughing, charging forwards like there's no tomorrow - but I'm just... Not that strong. I'm not strong enough to pretend I'm a warrior. I'm a coward. I'm a fraud. I'm nothing more than a simpering fool that hurts herself when a medic is trying to treat her... Or a coward that simply can't face down a man that's trying to cut her down.
I should have stayed at home.
Maybe then, I wouldn't have to trouble The Traverse with my presence.
I hate that I made them care.