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He was in undescribable agony. Pain wasnt even the correct fucking word to describe what he was going through.
Numbing electric took constant hold of his left arm, rendering the limb almost useless at its worst. Nothing he tried helped to soothe it. Not painkillers, not anti-inflammatories, not heat nor cold, not even rest. It was... manageable... some days, where the constant ache was dull enough to ignore. But every other fucking day, every other second, minute, hour of his existence was pure, unrelentless hell. He was suffering. And the only other person capable of empathising with his condition, Whole, couldn't give less of a fucking shit.
"I've experienced this my entire life and i've learnt to deal with it, it's something you will have to as well. Get over yourself, Soul."
How those words irritated him. They were ingrained deep into him, taunting him whenever he had a flare up. How the fuck was he meant to get over himself if it was disabling him? He had more important shit to do than ignore it.
...
But he had to accept it at some point, right?
That he was never going to be free from this pain?
That all the work he had spent into his ambitions, passions, wants and needs was for nothing?
He was useless, at his core. No labour skills, never worked a day in his life - he couldn't. He couldn't do any sort of housework - because Harmonia forbid Whole actually taught him something for once, especially with something he had so much anxiety around teaching himself. He was not independant, he was not strong, and he had no will.
He felt like a complete and utter failure.
And he was.
He was only something that could depend on others. He was unable to care for himself - his physical ability deteriorating with time. It may mainly just be his arms for now, but when will it severely spread to his legs? His back? His head? Sure, he was already experiencing chronic pain there, but not to the extent of arms yet.
He was so close to success. So close to everything he wanted.
It felt impossible for him to reach. His arms couldn't reach that far before locking up and sending sharp pain through his body that screamed at him to retract them.
He couldn't look past this pain, even if his desires were screaming at him, begging him, tugging and wailing and crying at him to just go for what he wanted.
It was so overwhelming. So awful. An isolating sort of illness that would never leave him.
Nobody can sympathise.
Nobody can empathise.
And the ones who could, didn't.
And Soul has never felt more alone in his life.
He was stuck in his body, and he couldn't wait to finally be free of it.