Work Text:
Vriska was sitting down on her chair, staring at her computer, seemingly trying not to think of her past. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to move a finger against it to turn it on. Just staring at a blank black screen with nothing to offer as a distraction.
It’s not like anyone would want to talk to her right now, or anytime really. She has hurt too many trolls, humans, everyone; and it was her only fault to blame. Her eye twitched, as if it was subconsciously trying to stop itself from crying before Vriska even knew she was going to.
What a fucked up world, nobody is there for you when you’re at your worst, and you end up just hurting others and yourself. How pathetic. Not even your lusus is there to take care of you.
Her mind kept thinking of more and more horrible things to say about herself that made her throat let out a muffled growl from her gritted teeth.
She seemed to get more angry at herself, her mind, her actions, her. Why must she be like this? Her hands moved to pull at her long knotted hair, clumps of hair getting stuck in between her fingers.
She furiously pulled even more, trying to get her fingers uncaught from her own hair leading up to clumps of hair ending up in her hands before she quickly discards them onto the already messy floor.
Vriska slumped her body down onto the floor, her knees up to let her head rest on them. She moved her arms to cover her head and hair as she let out an ugly cry and eventual coughs between tears.
Is there a point to it at all? A point of trying to get better? Would anyone even notice?
Vriska moves her arms away from her head and allows them to wrap around her lower knees. She had these emotions controlling her, making her seem like a mess. Gog.
Her thoughts distracted themselves from her actions and now onto herself. Her. Nobody would understand if someone came into her hive and saw the state she’s in, she wouldn’t even be able to speak up about it. Only herself could understand why she acts the way she does, it isn’t an excuse she isn’t trying to make it an excuse but she always makes it sound like it is.
Nobody understands me. Nobody understands me but me. Why won’t anyone but me understand me?
Vriska cracked out another cry, leaning her back against the wall, letting her knees slide to line up again her legs on the floor, feeling her shoes come in contact with broken shards of glass from eightballs. Her fingers catch tears as she trails them against her cheek, wiping it off slowly, allowing herself to let it sink in that she’s doing all of this.
Her fingers move down to rest on her stomach, they intertwine together. Her eye simply stares at it for a moment, focusing on the feeling of her hands.
She trails her left thumb onto her right wrist, doing small circles around it. That felt nice, it was comforting. She isn’t used to being comforted. I guess at this point the only person she’s able to comfort is herself.
Vriska relaxed her shoulders she didn’t even know were tight, a realization hit her. I can understand myself. I can comfort myself. I can love myself. I don’t need another person to do that for me. Her eyes drifted to focus on the tinted black curtains in her room, this was such an odd feeling to have for herself. It was rare of her to not beat herself up over small mistakes now she’s taking care of herself as if she had a moirail.
A moirail of herself. She can be her own moirail. She’s able to love and bond with herself as if she was someone else, maybe in a less abusive way.