Work Text:
Things always ended the same.
A non-committal text and a shitty nap, maybe even a drink to soothe the ache.
She'd gone through boy after boy and girl after girl. It always feels so good when it starts before the pink haze wears off and she's reminded of how fucked she is.
Born from a reaper and fear itself she only brought pain everywhere she went.
Life of the party Lucille!
The dumb friend with mommy issues and the one with genuine advice. Advice she couldn't follow herself even though she was adamant about those around her making the best decisions for themselves.
17 years in counting had amounted to what?
A mess of stupid mistakes and dumb ideas that never lead anywhere. It only filled a temporary void in her. It distracted her from the distress she felt and now it was becoming unavoidable.
The ache in her stomach barely soothed by the bottle or pushed aside by the pills.
Everything was so empty at this point there was no actual reason for anything anymore. Everything was bound to implode eventually and it'd somehow be her fault.
Everyone liked Luci but who actually liked Lucille.
"I miss the old Luci!"
"What happened to the old Luci?"
"You've been different Luci."
"I don't like the new Luci."
Yeah, it's supposed to be a joke but she was always the same.
Luci could get blackout drunk and fight someone over something she didn't actually even care about. Something she'd leave in a few months and feel minimal regret but ultimately better knowing it no longer had to be associated with her in any way. Luci had cool parents that she barely spoke about, Luci seemed embarrassed of them at times even if she actually loved her dad to death. Luci was simple and complex all at the same time to the point she couldn't solve herself.
What was Lucille?
She hated herself and she hated everything she'd done. She'd continue to hate it all until the day she died and she knew that.
If she left everything behind she couldn't even tell if she'd feel better or worse. Would being alone by herself be better than being alone around her friends? She'd regret either decision, a losing battle with no conclusion.
Too alone with her thoughts on days off, lying in bed just to sleep there and do it all again till monday. Life was just waiting for each weekend or the next thing to distract her from making a coherent thought but it kept getting harder and harder to avoid and she knew eventually she'd have no choice but to face the facts.
She was the problem and she knew that.
She didn't know how to solve it.
So why bother. Let it fester till it kills you from the inside out. Suffer in loud silence without doing anything to cure it.
Things always ended the same and that's how they'd continue.
That's just how it was.