( he needed those words most when he was young. knowing that it was okay to be vulnerable, to hurt, to be fucked up beyond all reasoning, that came later. he still struggles with it, maybe because it wasn't a formative part of his experience. ptsd? he still grew up in a time when the prevailing attitude towards it was, you pussy, what's wrong with you? he's lost more comrades to suicide than combat, that should fucking tell him something.
he's the first one who assures other people it's okay to be not okay. the kids he works with, fellow front-line workers in cpd, the few friends he's got left from the rangers. it's okay for them. it's never been so for him. it's nothing but a stupid, self-imposed ultimatum.
his hands flex. the contrast to hers hardly goes unnoticed. )
I know.
( rationally, intellectually. he knows. but he's just not there yet. setbacks happen.
his hand aches, where the knife went through. it seems like it gets worse every year. )
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he's the first one who assures other people it's okay to be not okay. the kids he works with, fellow front-line workers in cpd, the few friends he's got left from the rangers. it's okay for them. it's never been so for him. it's nothing but a stupid, self-imposed ultimatum.
his hands flex. the contrast to hers hardly goes unnoticed. )
I know.
( rationally, intellectually. he knows. but he's just not there yet. setbacks happen.
his hand aches, where the knife went through. it seems like it gets worse every year. )
Please stop trying to reassure me.