Øverturning the lies (a twenty one pilots fanfiction)

~Mari~

Mari doesn't know the how or the why, but she does know this:

When she wakes up, the last remnants of her dreams still clinging to her sleep-fogged mind, she's aware of one thing.

Her right hand is gripping her left wrist in a way that seems too deliberate to be coincidental.

Like she was trying to prevent herself from hurting herself even in her sleep.

That doesn't bode very well in her thoughts.

Especially considering how much those things seemed to be shoved in her face the day before.

No.

She pushes those memories away.

Still.

It seems like cruel irony that the one thing she is trying to avoid thinking of is around her no matter which way she turns.

Gritting her teeth together, she forces herself out of the comfortable pile of blankets she's surrounded with-something soft and soothing to try to keep her mind at rest.

And finds herself gripped by a sudden urge to do something.

But, this time, not bad. She doesn't think so, anyway.

She's had far too much time lately to distinguish the poisonous thoughts from the harmless ones.

Still...

She still finds herself talking to herself.

For her that's normal.

But its unsettling when she realizes that probably isn't normal for other people.

Perhaps its her mind's own way of trying to replace the fear and distrust-everything bad, in short, with something, some small semblance of good.

That part doesn't matter.

The part that does matter is that no matter what she does, it all feels wrong.

She could ignore the symptoms, pass them off as nothing to worry about, but they are still there.

Even after all the good, or things that should be good, should make her happy-they are there.

Is it so bad, truly, that all she wants is for that to be over?

She's reminded unpleasantly of those times when the bishops would have everyone sit down in their rows of sad, empty faces, in the dark, dark rooms where their only source of those light was the neon the nine so revered, where there was no escape from those low, murmuring tones they spoke of their twister religion in. 

Then, there was nothing to do except grit her teeth and just try to hold on. Try to hold on and just wait, wait for it to be over. 

Can she-will she-be able to do that now? 

She doesn't know. 

Is she patient or has she just gone through too much to know that this is the only way to try to outlast the pain? 

She doesn't know anymore. 

In a way things aren't even bad, nor are they worse than what she's already endured.

In some crucial ways they are even better. 

But she's terrified that in the ways that matter the most, they are just stagnant. 

Not getting worse, just not getting better.

And getting better, doing better, that is something she wishes she could do. 

But when she's constantly doubting herself, constantly fighting a war inside of her mind that lead her behind exhausted, well, its hard to see things as they truly are. 

Is it truly just inside her head? 

Is life something different than what its been made out to be by her self-destructive mind? 

Now that, that is something to make her have a tiny speck of hope for what the future might bring. 

Still. 

She's so used to having to bring her ways of coping into whichever situation she finds herself in she can't imagine finding herself somewhere and truly being content with that. 

Control. 

Yes. 

Control is soething she has alwaus wanted to feel. 

Like she can truly change the direction, the flow of the river that is her life. 

Without it, what is she truly?

A helpless soul trying not to drown? 

Yes. 

And that is not something she ever wishes to be.

Then what? 

What direction will she go in now? 

She inhales. 

Exhales. 

Tries to figure that out, tries to force herself to be responsible for the fate of her own soul. 

Is that truly reasonable? 

No...

No. 

And she knows that but still wishes she could understand which way her life might go. 

There are many paths ahead and she wishes...she wishes she could she the ways they might diverge. 

Wishes but recieves nothing.