And there it is.
Unchanging, ever present;
That constant well of despair at the periphery of your consciousness,
Waiting to consume you.
Hold it back.
The memory of what they did is too strong
What YOU did.
The… wait, what?
The memory of what YOU did is too strong.
Where do you think the root of this despair lies?
Get out of my head.
You can’t pin this one on me as well.
I don’t NEED to.
You’ll do a good enough job of that yourself.
I didn’t DO anything!
Remember those three words?
“Or through inaction…”
That’s Asimov, motherfucker.
What happened is on your head.
This may come as a shock to you,
But I’m not a fucking robot.
Then why the pre-programmed responses?
Why is it that whenever you come across a trigger then
You’re permanently primed and loaded,
ready to fire.
You know what they call humans who fail a turing test?
Out of my fucking head.
Did you ever stop to analyse anything you’ve done in the past seven years?
There you are, cast off, alone in the dark,
Frantically grabbing at anything and everything
Which comes your way.
So desperate to love and you don’t even know what that means.
That’s not true.
You’re not even him anymore.
He made the smart choices.
He walked away with the prize.
He’s up there now, laughing at you.
And do you know why?
YES! YES I FUCKING KNOW WHY!
Then SAY IT with me!
BECAUSE HE FUCKING SAVED HER!
Because he saved her.
Now YOU get out of MY head.