literature

Because He Doesn't Want Me- Homestuck.

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Literature Text

This is my DavexWhoeverthefuck fic. Shippers ship. Enjoy.
All within that moment, you could feel your heart clenching and exploding, turning to dust. A sinking feeling settled in your gut, the kind that lets you know something is terribly wrong. Because obviously, it was.
You sit in a daze, gazing at your computer screen. You would re-read the words, to make it seem more realistic, but you can’t focus. You can’t focus on anything.
You put yourself out there, you hung yourself out to dry. But it doesn’t even matter anymore, because he would never want you.
You would never be good enough. You’ll never be what he wants, or what he needs. Because who would need someone like you? Especially someone like him. He’s surrounded by warmth; by friends who are much more suited to be there for him than you are. You’re not good with feelings, or giving comfort. You have too many of your own problems, you wouldn’t be able to ever help someone else with theirs. You’re fucked up and useless, and he knew it. That’s why he didn’t want you. It wasn’t because he didn’t want a relationship, he just didn’t want you. Because you were pathetic. And weak. Who would ever want someone who couldn’t be there all the time? Sure, over Pesterchum was one thing. Physically being there was another.
Though, you suppose, if you were ever to meet him in person, he would most definitely not want you. He would see through your ‘cool’ facade you put on, he’d see how many insecurities you have and how many problems. He’d be scared away even more so than now; he’d be repulsed by you. He could never love you. You doubt that there was anybody on earth that could ever love you; that could handle your outrageous and silly problems.
You knew you were born to be alone from the start. There was nothing you could do about it; you were naturally awkward and undesirable. all those years as a recluse with nobody but Bro never helped your personality, either. Socially, you were a retarded penguin who couldn’t charm even the stupidest of people, and he was most definitely not stupid. He knew your problems, because you display them so painstaking obviously.
What could you ever give to him? Companionship? Like he needed that. Romance? Like he wanted that. Comfort? You couldn’t comfort anybody, you’re too awkward. Your body? Even you couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror. Enticing conversation? Puh-lease. He’s probably had better conversations with a rock.
The bottom line was that you had nothing that you could possibly give, and it was obvious to him. He knew that you were worthless. He knew you weren't worth it. And that is why he rejected you. If you were him, you’d reject yourself too.
The emotional pain was overpowering, you thanked the gods that you were alone as you felt the tears slipping down on your cheeks from under your shades. You didn’t care if what you were doing was unmanly or pathetic, it wasn’t like there was anybody to see. You were already so pathetic, what did a few tears change? Nothing. You were already at that level.
You could hear your computer ping once more, but you didn’t snap out of your daze. You knew it was him, probably offering some consolation on his rejection. But you couldn’t read it; you couldn’t bring yourself to read those lies. Because you knew why he didn’t want you, Nothing he could say would change that.
Your computer was not pinging incessantly now. You had to get away from the noise. It never occurred to you to just turn down the volume on your computer. You suddenly just had to get away. Get away from it all.
You fumbled as you stood from your chair, reaching blindly at your desk for support. A few things went crashing to the floor, but you didn’t have the energy to care about what they were. You just had to go.
You felt your way out of your room, eyes uselessly blinded by tears. You didn’t try to clear your vision, you just let them come. You couldn’t remember the last time you cried.
But, of course, you couldn’t remember the last time your heart felt like it was being ripped in two.
You tripped over your own feet and stumbled, falling flat on your face. Your shades went flying, and you didn’t bother to try to retrieve them. You were openly sobbing now. The pain was just too much for you, you couldn’t handle it. You couldn’t cope.
He didn’t want you, nobody would want you. Your friends weren’t even your friends. You didn’t have any real-life friends, because in real life you didn’t have a ‘too-cool’ persona to hide behind like you did on the internet. You couldn’t fool people in real life.
Because anybody who ever came across you would see how pathetic you were. Why did Bro always want to spar? Because he was at a loss on how to make you better. Because nothing could make you better; nothing could help. Even though you needed help. Desperately.
You tried to pull yourself back up, but the most you could manage was a  pathetic crawl. The closest room was the bathroom, you half crawled-half dragged yourself. The first thing you noted was the toilet, which promptly made you aware of the bile rising at the back of your throat. You learched over the bowl just in time, heaving.
You were a disgusting, crying mess. If only your so called ‘friends’ could see you now.
And I was balling my eyes out here, so it ends abruptly. I'll be glad to continue it if anyone is interested. I have enough inner turmoil to do so.
Lot of feels going on right now. Can't handle myself.
Enjoy my pain.
© 2012 - 2024 SnowFallAtTwilight
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