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Save me from myself
It had gotten too hard to lie to himself anymore; he was a motherfucking wreck. After his therapist transferred out of the state work and into a private practice, he couldn't afford to pay the guy what he was charging, and the idea of starting up a new dialogue with some unknown motherfucker didn't sound appealing to Gamzee at all. He'd done that before, and it was shaky ground for nearly a year with this guy before he started feeling really at peace with letting himself be all of himself around the guy.
But with no therapist, there was no way to get his medication. At least one of the meds was something that had refills for a year - the inhibitors that kept the whispers out and kept the dark motherfucker somewhat controllable in his pan would last long enough, but the rest of it, the shit that knocked him out, the shit that kept his forepan balanced in the meanwhile? That had run out two weeks ago. It was a pretty hard spiral downward after the first week, and this week hadn't even had the courtesy of a spiral. It was straight motherfucking down, in a nosedive of anger and guilt and ungodly memories that bubbled through and trickled into his sponge, reminding him that there was a reason he was alone, and that there was a reason for those motherfucking scars down his face.
Gamzee hadn't called in three days, and only had the presence of mind to talk to his boss the night before locking up to tell him what had been going down five days prior, and asked for a week or two off so he didn't wind up hurting anybody. His boss marked him down for vacation and asked the highblood to find something fast for the sake of his own health.
He hadn't. The idea of doing it all over again, breaking another person under the weight of his fucking problems was too much for him. He should have just been committed again after all. Fucking motherfuck, he wasn't safe.
So that was why he was still in his place, shivering under the cover of a heavy blanket, grinding his teeth and muttering to himself in an argument. Ain't nobody gonna come, Tavros ain't even texted. Who the fuckdo you think you is, tryin' to be all up and savin' yourself? Let go, you spineless motherfuck.Let me do this shit up, you know I got what it motherfuckin' takes to keep you from crackin'. You just be gettin' your rest on, brother, get your shit all bedded down. Let me handle it. You know you tired. Ain't no motherfuckin' thing. Make like Elsa and just let motherfuckin' go.
For once, the ugly motherfucker had a point. He was exhausted. And thus far, the malicious end to him had behaved himself. But shit, he knew it wouldn't take much for him to get started. And then get they-all in trouble. But he was so tired. Just a little bit wouldn't hurt, right?
Right?
But with no therapist, there was no way to get his medication. At least one of the meds was something that had refills for a year - the inhibitors that kept the whispers out and kept the dark motherfucker somewhat controllable in his pan would last long enough, but the rest of it, the shit that knocked him out, the shit that kept his forepan balanced in the meanwhile? That had run out two weeks ago. It was a pretty hard spiral downward after the first week, and this week hadn't even had the courtesy of a spiral. It was straight motherfucking down, in a nosedive of anger and guilt and ungodly memories that bubbled through and trickled into his sponge, reminding him that there was a reason he was alone, and that there was a reason for those motherfucking scars down his face.
Gamzee hadn't called in three days, and only had the presence of mind to talk to his boss the night before locking up to tell him what had been going down five days prior, and asked for a week or two off so he didn't wind up hurting anybody. His boss marked him down for vacation and asked the highblood to find something fast for the sake of his own health.
He hadn't. The idea of doing it all over again, breaking another person under the weight of his fucking problems was too much for him. He should have just been committed again after all. Fucking motherfuck, he wasn't safe.
So that was why he was still in his place, shivering under the cover of a heavy blanket, grinding his teeth and muttering to himself in an argument. Ain't nobody gonna come, Tavros ain't even texted. Who the fuckdo you think you is, tryin' to be all up and savin' yourself? Let go, you spineless motherfuck.Let me do this shit up, you know I got what it motherfuckin' takes to keep you from crackin'. You just be gettin' your rest on, brother, get your shit all bedded down. Let me handle it. You know you tired. Ain't no motherfuckin' thing. Make like Elsa and just let motherfuckin' go.
For once, the ugly motherfucker had a point. He was exhausted. And thus far, the malicious end to him had behaved himself. But shit, he knew it wouldn't take much for him to get started. And then get they-all in trouble. But he was so tired. Just a little bit wouldn't hurt, right?
Right?
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