•.° failure isn't an option (sometimes)°.•

29 0 10
                                    

tw‼️:

suicide attempt

dissociation

————————————

"Can you tell me a story?"

"Why should I?"

"I'll stop disrupting your work."

"Fine."

~

Past conversations that were left in the dust. Unsaid words that were never (and would never be) spoken. Greetings that could never be said to each other ever again. One last goodbye already given.

Lookie was tired.

Was she Lookie anymore?

Or was she someone else?

She didn't feel like she was anyone.

Simply a vessel in a hollow shell of who once was a person.

Her face was not her own.

The person in the mirror was not her.

Then who was that person, if not herself but someone else?

~

"Do you remember the time you got sick, chickpea?"

"Don't blame me, I didn't mean to spill the cat food everywhere!"

"I'm not blaming you, silly. I'm just reminiscing! You were like a wild maniac when you were sick."

~

If Lookie(?) was ever sick again, would anybody care for her? She knew the answer. But it felt confusing and puzzling to think about. She knew at least someone would care.

She did not deserve the care.


She did not deserve anything from anyone.

The reflection in the mirror morphed and changed to something hideous and not quite right. Unsettlingly different.

It was not her.

She was not her.

So who was it?

Her identity was not her own.

~

"You started rambling about how the ocean was a soup. You aren't the sharpest when sick."

"Hey, but you agreed!"

"You're still not the sharpest either way, chickpea."

"Rude."

~

The mirror contorted and twisted her identity like a memory. It was fascinating on how easily manipulated memories could be.

She continued to stare at the mirror.

...

What was her name?

Names felt important to remember.

She can't remember the last time someone called her by her name. Not many people she hung around spoke to her after his death.

With the exception of Iris, of course.

But yet, she couldn't recall what her name was.

It felt like something she should know— something she used to know. But alas, she could not remember.

Her name wasn't important.

She wasn't important.

Not anymore.

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