Chapter Text
Personas were something special, the mirror of the user's heart.
This, however, did not apply to Akira Kurusu. Yes, he had his persona, Arsene, but was he really his? Was he the true Arsene he’d awakened to all those months ago.
Slumping against the bathroom door, Akira shook, coming down from a breakdown. Sure, he was a wildcard, but… it hurt so much. It ached harboring so many personas that weren’t his own.
They weren’t even mirrors of his own heart, merely game that he collected.
Scratching his nails against the boards, he screamed, throat burning just within the first few seconds. He had no true personality, nothing more than a broken mirror that reflected what others wished for him to be.
Nothing more than a blank slate for his friends to write what they want.
He wasn’t even his own person by this point.
Tears, pattering down his face, Akira whined loudly, thumping the back of his head against the door. Was he really even friends with anyone then? ‘Probably not’ a voice replied, echoing in the back of his mind. Right. Of course..
He was the therapist friend. The mom friend. The one anyone and everyone could rely on within a drop of a hat.
And he gave in, molding himself to fit his friends ideals of the perfect friend, the perfect lover, the perfect person.
Letting out another whine, Akira sobbed.
He wanted to be someone.
The others, they all had their personas. Their true personas. Their true rebellion. Akira had nothing to show for that, other than what felt like a copy of Arsene.
He was nothing.