Cole Carrington (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
burninginside) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2014-01-25 02:09 am
burninginside) wrote in muserevival2014-01-25 02:09 am
Quote of the Day 036.
“Your intellect may be confused, but your emotions will never lie to you.”
- Roger Ebert
It had been a long time since Cole had cried. He had been raised to believe crying was a weakness, but these days, he fucking hated his father, so fuck his ideals in the ass, as far as he was concerned. Even if he desperately tried not to, there was no way he couldn't give into the urge. He hadn't really let on to Destina during her surprise and devious visit just how much pain he was in. If there was one thing he was a genius at, it was masking his feelings.
Not long after she left, however, he hit another really bad patch. The exhaustion and pain were stirring all the bad emotions in his head. There was no chance to even try to fight it. He broke down, curling up in a ball on his side and resting a hand over his face. He was only into the first few days and it was tearing him apart, inside and out. They weren't giving him anything for the pain, and when they told him that, it made a lot of sense. Getting clean was just that, cleansing the body. They had warned him in his initial assessment how painful it was going to get for him, but there was no anticipating this. It even hurt to cry, but the floodgates were open and he couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop. Fuck it, there was no one here to judge him, no one here to be strong for. Maybe that meant he was weak, but why not show weakness when it was all you were fucking feeling?
His head was full of thoughts that were only compounding on his breakdown. The hand over his face moved up to his hair where he tore at his hair, even ripping some of the strands from his scalp. He just wanted to stop the barrage of tormenting thoughts churning over and over in his mind. He really did feel like he wanted to end everything right at that moment, but he was in too much agony to move and give it a go. The nausea decided too that it wasn't going to be out-done by everything else either. He was burning up and the crying was making him sick. Or at least, trying to make him sick. He grabbed the bag he was left to try to throw up, but there was just nothing left. He soon abandoned it, and instead grabbed for the plush toy Emilio had sent with Destina for him and his fist squeezed tightly around it, holding it up to his forehead through another wave of excruciating pain slicing through his stomach. This had to be enough for him to never do drugs or drink again. No wonder so many people failed at getting clean when it made you feel like you were dying from the inside out.
A hoarse and choked sob of, "Fuck..." was all he could get out, mostly at himself for the weakness and lack of strength to not make it through these couple of measly weeks to make it out on top. His thumb brushed down over the soft plushy arm of the little toy and he used it as a way to try to anchor him through this. It took a hell of a long time. Time meant nothing to him right now. He could have been lying there for hours sobbing himself into a fitful sleep for all he knew. Eventually that was exactly what happened too. He couldn't stop. The tears just kept coming. For his past, for how much it had destroyed his present, and almost killed him so he never made the future. In the end, the pain caused him to pass out and bring him some temporary relief.
In the days to come, he wouldn't do anything without that little plush hug right there within in his reach. Sometimes it could be the most simplest of things that gave you the desperately needed anchor between sinking or swimming, and he was never more grateful than that moment to have someone like Destina in his life... who had led him to Emilio, who he hoped would be in the future he hoped like fuck he still had a shot at.
Cole Carrington
( original character )
- Roger Ebert
It had been a long time since Cole had cried. He had been raised to believe crying was a weakness, but these days, he fucking hated his father, so fuck his ideals in the ass, as far as he was concerned. Even if he desperately tried not to, there was no way he couldn't give into the urge. He hadn't really let on to Destina during her surprise and devious visit just how much pain he was in. If there was one thing he was a genius at, it was masking his feelings.
Not long after she left, however, he hit another really bad patch. The exhaustion and pain were stirring all the bad emotions in his head. There was no chance to even try to fight it. He broke down, curling up in a ball on his side and resting a hand over his face. He was only into the first few days and it was tearing him apart, inside and out. They weren't giving him anything for the pain, and when they told him that, it made a lot of sense. Getting clean was just that, cleansing the body. They had warned him in his initial assessment how painful it was going to get for him, but there was no anticipating this. It even hurt to cry, but the floodgates were open and he couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop. Fuck it, there was no one here to judge him, no one here to be strong for. Maybe that meant he was weak, but why not show weakness when it was all you were fucking feeling?
His head was full of thoughts that were only compounding on his breakdown. The hand over his face moved up to his hair where he tore at his hair, even ripping some of the strands from his scalp. He just wanted to stop the barrage of tormenting thoughts churning over and over in his mind. He really did feel like he wanted to end everything right at that moment, but he was in too much agony to move and give it a go. The nausea decided too that it wasn't going to be out-done by everything else either. He was burning up and the crying was making him sick. Or at least, trying to make him sick. He grabbed the bag he was left to try to throw up, but there was just nothing left. He soon abandoned it, and instead grabbed for the plush toy Emilio had sent with Destina for him and his fist squeezed tightly around it, holding it up to his forehead through another wave of excruciating pain slicing through his stomach. This had to be enough for him to never do drugs or drink again. No wonder so many people failed at getting clean when it made you feel like you were dying from the inside out.
A hoarse and choked sob of, "Fuck..." was all he could get out, mostly at himself for the weakness and lack of strength to not make it through these couple of measly weeks to make it out on top. His thumb brushed down over the soft plushy arm of the little toy and he used it as a way to try to anchor him through this. It took a hell of a long time. Time meant nothing to him right now. He could have been lying there for hours sobbing himself into a fitful sleep for all he knew. Eventually that was exactly what happened too. He couldn't stop. The tears just kept coming. For his past, for how much it had destroyed his present, and almost killed him so he never made the future. In the end, the pain caused him to pass out and bring him some temporary relief.
In the days to come, he wouldn't do anything without that little plush hug right there within in his reach. Sometimes it could be the most simplest of things that gave you the desperately needed anchor between sinking or swimming, and he was never more grateful than that moment to have someone like Destina in his life... who had led him to Emilio, who he hoped would be in the future he hoped like fuck he still had a shot at.
( original character )