Sanders Sides- Oneshots

The lie of emotions

There's not much one can do about feelings.
We all posses them and it's seen as an illness if one does not.

And, of course, all of us have wished for them to no longer influence us one time or another.
And although that wish has never come true we do not seem upset about it not doing so, carrying on with our daily tasks after mourning ourselves, basking in our selfpity.

But I have come upon a dilemma as a very odd situation has occurred. A situation in which not I but rather the people around me want me to not posses the basic emotional range that is needed to create a functional being.

Well, rather expect then want I suppose.

One could say I pulled the metaphorical short straw when it comes to which part of our host I represent.

Almost all of the others seemed to either be the embodiment of deeper emotions themselves or something linked to them.

Creativity, though not having to do anything with feelings is linked to them heavily as the side of him that represents our hosts dramatic side is influenced by them on a day to day basis.

Morality, also representing emotions themselves does not need a further explanation on the topic of why he is expected to feel.

Anxiety, representing mostly negative thoughts, fears and feelings is also self-explanatory.

Logic however, logic is purely constructed of intaking and providing knowledge, no links to feelings whatsoever as they would only corrupt or slow down providing said knowledge.

And still, as one might've guessed at the very start of this self-explanatory rant, still logic is very capable of feeling and experiencing emotions.

The other three have seized to notice though, leaving no choice than to hide them away, feeding to the emotionless facade that had been crafted so carefully around the broken soul, only letting it fall when absolutely certain that nobody unknowing of its existence would realise the mask was even there.

The hurt flooding the room like boiling oil as it seeped through every crack in the walls, drowning the now mask-less man even more in his mental state of being.

Yes, the others did not know, leaving no choice but to seek help, the let himself slip into the slender arms of faith and seek comfort by the only person he knew to be dangerous.

And only now, my arms wrapped around his torso as it heaves and sinks in a nonexistencing rhythm that can only be associated with the person it belonged to sobbing violently, only now he has realised just how much he had to pay for the comfort he had needed so desperately.

Only now, as the door to his freedom will no longer open and his hands are clawing at my shoulders in a helplessness act to save himself, only now he sees how truly affected he has gotten by the power of lies that has overtaken him.

Helped by my own, in bright yellow wrapped hands he had wrapped himself around my metaphorical finger.

And as the fear drips out if every pore in his being I lean in, my own emotions no longer hidden away I bow forward, letting him take in every piece of my shattered soul and mind visible within my eyes as I whisper words that would end his life as a good trait, words only he would ever hear.

"You're like me now."