[ It's... a while before he calms down, before the shaking stops. A lot longer than he'd ever wanted her to see. It nearly seems as if he stops a few times before some thought hits him side ways and he's sent spiraling again and by the time he's done his eyes hurt and he feels wiped clean.
But not like a slate or a dry erase board.
Not-- he feels like a paper that someone has written on and then erased something over and over and over until nothing else can be written there.
He's wrung dry and useless. He feels pathetic for feeling like this over what happened to him, even if it isn't about what happened to him directly. He can't even vocalize what's wrong he's too frightened and confused to speak directly about it.
Instead he keeps his grip on her-- still shivering as if he's cold and his voice sounds as if it's been through a garbage disposal. ]
I'm tired. [ The only thing he can rely upon right now. Maybe if he sleeps enough he'll wake up and things will be fine. His problems will be solved. ]
no subject
But not like a slate or a dry erase board.
Not-- he feels like a paper that someone has written on and then erased something over and over and over until nothing else can be written there.
He's wrung dry and useless. He feels pathetic for feeling like this over what happened to him, even if it isn't about what happened to him directly. He can't even vocalize what's wrong he's too frightened and confused to speak directly about it.
Instead he keeps his grip on her-- still shivering as if he's cold and his voice sounds as if it's been through a garbage disposal. ]
I'm tired. [ The only thing he can rely upon right now. Maybe if he sleeps enough he'll wake up and things will be fine. His problems will be solved. ]