Chapter Text
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POE POV:
It’s now 6 am, he hasn’t slept all night. It’s been 3 nights without sleep, he’s sure to have started hallucinating by now.
The defeating silence along with the throbbing in his finger and wrist. He shouldn’t have cut his finger, and he shouldn’t have wrote that long to make his wrist ache. That’s fine. He’s barely in consciousness with how tired he is. Every blink he takes, his eyes close for 6 seconds until he realizes he’s falling asleep and opens them again.
Karl is peacefully laying on the warm blanket by Poe’s lap, it feels comforting knowing he has someone or something right now. To Poe, life is useless right now. He hasn’t had human contact with someone for a long while, and he has no work.
It’s tiring having to be a female by birth. No matter what, he can’t hide from it. He wants to be a boy. No, he is a boy, isn’t he? Poe wants to be a boy, have a masculine voice, body, and self. He wants to feel comfortable in being himself. He knows he’s what people call ‘trans,’ and that most older people from America hate it, however Japan is somewhat more accepting. Being trans doesn’t make him special. It makes him sick to think about how disgusting he is. At this point, how is he human, isn’t he just a ‘creature?’ If we are supposedly a temple for the God above, and aren’t our own self, then why did God make something as disgusting as him?
If there’s one thing he knows, most traits of his are shame and sin. The shape of his body, the features of it, the wounds of it, all an embodiment of shame and sin. His thoughts part him from biological men, and the voice of his is not one of a ‘true’ man’s. He feels deep pity for those who have the misfortune as to lay eyes their upon him.
A sound of a ‘ping!’ Coming from his phone snaps him out of his disheveled state, and he sits up, a small wave of dizziness hitting him as he ignores it and peeks at the notification, but doesn’t open it. An unknown number from Yokohama messaged him, but it may just be spam, so he sets his phone back down and ignores it.
Poe knows he needs help, but he doesn’t want it. There’s no use seeking help when it won’t make you feel better, he knows that. If one doesn’t seek help, or is forced to it unwillingly, it isn’t going to help. The one needs to be willing. He knows that. He knows he says he doesn’t want help, he’s but deep deep down, he wants it but is afraid. He’s afraid of getting hurt, or getting embarrassed, or being weak around someone. He tried therapy at the age of 12, but it didn’t help. Nothing did. The therapist was just straight to everything. He hated it. It wasn’t something he looked forward to, and it isn’t something he’s going to be doing willingly again.
He’s had classmates say dumb things to him. Call him slurs, call him things that aren’t true, make fun of his interests and languages he spoke. So what if he spoke Japanese and English? It isn’t ‘cringe’ or ‘weird’ to learn a language of a place you want to go. So what if he has a weird voice? So what if he dresses how he wants? If he wants to dress fancy, Victorian, feminine, futuristic, clumsily, it doesn’t matter. (Not that he would dress feminine or futuristic, but he’s just thinking. It’s not fair. In no way fair, at all.
He closes his eyes to relax, lets his body to go limp, and allows his body to sleep now as he focuses on the warmth of his body.