Chapter Text
North Star, Starlo, Star knows something is going on with him.
He doesn’t think he’s depressed. Perhaps he has a hard time getting out of bed sometimes, but that’s just because he’s comfortable. It’s not like he would rather stay inside and not be perceived instead of getting up and starting the day, he thinks.
The only thing that could maybe constitute as a symptom of depression is the one time he tried to seriously harm himself. But, even then, he’s always been a coward. The injury amounted to no more than a couple of scratches. He didn’t even leak any dust.
The reason behind it wasn’t even because he was depressed per say. He was just overwhelmed with a myriad of emotions that happened to bubble up into the outcome of harming himself. Usually, when he’s overwhelmed, he just takes a little time or a few days alone to calm himself down and get back on track.
No, he doesn’t have depression. He’s seen the depths of depression affect his best friend with his own eyes. He was nowhere near that bad off.
His best friend…
When he had stupidly fought with Clover it was Ceroba who helped snap him out of the manic state he was in. She always knows what to say to bring him back to reality. There was something she said that day, however, that stuck with him in a bad way:
“Bring back the innocent farmer I once knew.”
He knew in his soul of souls what she meant by that. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit bitter at her word choice when earlier she also said that she wanted to see “The real Starlo”.
The “real” Starlo was someone who never had the courage to do anything for himself.
The “real” Starlo was someone who blended into the background and was made to be forgotten.
The “real” Starlo was someone who hated everything about himself. His braces, his demure and quiet personality, his light Southern drawl that only came out when he said words like ‘yarn’ or ‘fire’, his stupid nerd glasses. Everything.
So many monsters in his life have told him that he needs to love himself. His mother, father, and Ceroba being chief among them. But how do you love yourself when you can barely even tolerate yourself most days?
Loving himself felt like loving an abuser.
The persona of North Star was created for him to finally not hate what he saw in the mirror. The braces were temporary, his old personality was replaced with an outgoing and bold one, the westerns he loved helped him appreciate and even accentuate his accent, and his trusty hat hid his glasses. He really did love himself when he was North Star.
Above all, being North Star gave him a purpose. Before, he was only going through the motions of life. He wasn’t really doing anything of note. Yes, working as a farmer is important, monsters have to eat after all, but he never felt fulfilled doing that work. Now, as the sheriff of the Wild East, he could help monsters in a more hands on way. He could keep them from dwelling on the depressing situation of being stuck in the Underground for however long while also having fun with his closest friends. It was truly a win-win situation.
Until it wasn’t.
Until he finally got the chance to see a real human, a cowpoke no less, and got too caught up in the thrill of it. He got so lost in getting to know the human and their culture while showing them his culture that he didn’t realize just how badly he was treating his closest friends.
He felt awful for mistreating them, but he wished that they had taken the time to actually talk to him instead of ganging up on and blowing up at him. Guess they were even for making each other feel bad, at least even though Star still felt bad about both things.
So, now he’s back at square one. His loved ones don’t like North Star and want Starlo back, but he doesn’t like Starlo. He doesn’t even necessarily want to be North Star specifically; he just doesn’t want to be Starlo. If his interest had been in anime instead of westerns he would want to be, uh, Sailor Starlight or whatever. He doesn’t know a lot about anime; give him a break.
But it doesn’t matter either way. Star could work with these new expectations. He’s always been a pro at adapting to new circumstances and is a pretty good actor if he does say so himself. If his loved ones wanted Starlo back, then they’d get him.
Fake it ‘til you make it, right?
So, he did. Only a few days after Clover…passed he was back to helping his family as Starlo at the farmer’s market that weekend. He put on a smile, ignored the confused looks of the townsfolk, and did what his loved ones wanted. He didn’t want to make them more upset than he had. His family was happy to have him back and his friends were happy to see him returning to his roots.
That was the one thing about his “true” self that he liked, at least. He’s always been kind. He’s someone who puts the needs of others ahead of his own. That personality trait always got him praise, so why wouldn’t he try to keep that part of him consistent?
He may not have been happy, but everyone else was.
And isn’t that what a true hero is supposed to do? Sacrifice the needs of the few to satisfy the needs of the many.
He may not be North Star anymore, but he still gets to play hero.
Well, that’s a lie. With how long the North Star persona superseded his old one, little bits of North Star have stuck around. He’s become more naturally outgoing and he appreciates that, but now he’s worried about taking it too far again.
Logically, he knows that being a little more outgoing than Starlo was isn’t going to send him spiraling back into the bad version of himself that no one wanted, but logic and emotions don’t mix well. At least they never did for him. His brain always made him act on emotions first, no matter the consequences.
Maybe it’s anxiety.
No, it couldn’t be that either. Once again, he’s seen what anxiety can be like. That Dalv fella who was at Clover’s funeral sure was a doozy. Star would need at least triple the number of fingers Blembino claims to have in order to count how many times Dalv’s apologized for something that didn’t need apologizing for.
Sure, sometimes Star would worry about things that he had no control over and tends to be pretty restless most of the time, but he was nowhere near as bad as Dalv. Anxiety is off the table.
…
So, maybe he’s just…broken.
If he doesn’t have depression or anxiety, then what could it even be? What could justify his severe self-esteem issues? Or his tendency to forget the world and monsters around him when he’s doing something he really enjoys? Or his deep need to be seen, appreciated, and remembered?
He’s not like Ceroba who lost the two most important monsters in her life. She’s justified in her depression. He’s not like Dalv who survived a human attacking and almost killing him. He’s justified in his anxiety.
Star has no reason to be the way he is. He grew up with a family who loves him. They weren’t rich, but they weren’t dirt poor. They weren’t oppressively strict, but they weren’t neglectful. He had autonomy growing up, but his family was always there to catch him if he fell. He’d never lost a loved one or been truly threatened or attacked in any way.
He’s never suffered in his life, so why is he acting like he had?
So many other monsters had and have it so much worse than he’s ever had, so who’s he to complain about not liking himself all the time? At least he has a support network who does. Even though they like the version of himself he hates the most.
Who’s he to get upset when monsters call him out on his reckless and one track minded behavior? At least they care enough to bring him back to reality. Even though no one actually talked to him first; he swears he’d listen.
Who’s he to want to be remembered and appreciated? How selfish could he get? Imagine if someone much less fortunate than him heard about his so called “troubles”. Oh boo hoo, you have identity issues. Grow up, you little attention whore.
The thoughts were overwhelming.
He wanted to scream, to cry, to lash out, to do something.
But it’s late out. Or early. He had no idea how long he’d been pacing around outside his childhood home in the dead of night. He didn’t wanna wake anyone up.
So he pulled.
His mom always got on him when he tugged at his rays as a youngin. Said they’d pop right out of his head if he pulled hard enough.
The pain would be a welcome distraction from the loudly buzzing thoughts.
He pulled harder.
It wasn’t enough. He could still feel and hear and smell everything.
He dropped to his knees, hands still around his rays, gritting his teeth so hard he thought they might crack.
It’s not fair.
Life ain’t fair.
He hits his forehead with a fist. Hard.
Why am I like this?
You already know why.
He does it again. He’s not sure if the crack he hears is from the impact or something else.
Please, stop…
You know you don’t deserve that.
Again.
…
Ow.
He slowly brings his hands from his head to converge on the ground in front of him as he catches his breath. It’s only then that he notices he’s crying as a few drops land on his hands and the ground.
He sinks further down into himself, resting his forearms on the ground and his head atop them. He kinda looked like he was doing that one bow he’d seen Ceroba do a few times before.
He took a few deep breaths to center himself again. It kinda worked, but it also made him yawn.
These episodes always took it out of him.
After a couple more breaths he got up and walked back home. He went slowly both because he was physically and emotionally exhausted and because he didn’t want to pass out from the blunt force head trauma he inflicted on himself.
Quietly, he entered the house, snuck back up the stairs, and made it into his room without anyone noticing.
“Bro? Is that you?”
Dammit.
His brother, Orion, sat up from the top bunk, rubbing his eyes.
“Yeah, it’s me Ri. Sorry if I woke you up.”
Star slipped back into his bed, cocooning himself in the blanket.
“It’s fine. What were ya doin’?”
He thought about telling the truth. He really wanted to confide in someone about the mess that is his brain. But Orion, and himself, had things to do in the morning. He didn’t want to selfishly take up his time with petty problems that can’t be fixed.
“I was just… getting the thoughts out.”
Orion was silent for a bit. Star kinda hoped that he’d deemed his answer good enough and fallen back asleep. Just as he was starting to get comfortable, though, he heard him speak,
“If there’s anything you wanna talk about, just lemme know, okay?”
He thought about not answering, pretending he’d fallen asleep. But something told him to answer,
“Thanks Ri, I will.”
Guess that something also told him to lie.