- Aug 1, 2022
- 115
- 10
- 18
IM SCARED TO GET CLOSE AND I HATE BEING ALONE
I LONG FOR THE FEELING TO NOT FEEL AT ALL
THE HIGHER I GET, THE LOWER I SINK
I CAN'T DROWN MY DEMONS, THEY KNOW HOW TO SWIM
He couldn't think straight anymore. Didn't trust himself to, anymore.
He'd thought he'd had it figured out when he first came to Windclan, that he could show their leader loyalty and then weed out the disloyal by seeing who wasn't willing to do the same. It would be clear cut, and he could ice out anyone that didn't fit the mold of what he was looking for. Because after everything he'd lost, Coldsnap hadn't had time to waste his energy on cats that didn't plan on sticking around. He'd happily cut the dead weight loose and walk among those who were cut from a cloth more like his own and it would be the end to his problems. Maybe he wouldn't have friends, maybe he wouldnt be well liked, but he also wouldn't be opening himself up to more pain in the future. He could continue to circle and protect that jagged, bleeding shards of his heart without having to worry about who he let close because only the worthy would have been able to earn any kind of proximity.
But those were the imuplsive whims of child, a defense mechanism born from a confused, lonely, angry, kid whose instintice reaction had been to withdraw from the pain.
The problem was that he wasn't a kit anymore. He couldn't keep cutting the world into black and white when he was drowning in the grey. Couldn't keep hiding himself away from a pain that was no longer there. This wasn't the marsh. These cats didn't want to leave the moors. He was okay. He was fine. So why couldn't he fucking let it go? Why couldn't he convince the rest of himself that it was okay to stop holding on? He had made the decision that night with Dandelion to walk a better path, to stop torturing himself and to do some actual good for the cats around him, but he felt like he hadn't moved an inch despite the weeks that had flown by.
He'd stood by while Emberfang tried to speak the truth. He'd pushed Rosepaw away right til the very fucking end.
But it was his talk with Hyacinth that pushed him over the edge. She was the only adult he'd ever let into his life, the only one he'd ever come to listen to and respect, and her resignition had flown in the face of everything she'd ever taught him.
Just like that, he'd lost the last of the solid ground beneath his feet.
His return to camp that night was late, far beyond the hours that any sane cat would find themselves up, and yet for Coldsnap his return was early. Not due back until dawn, the large tomcat stumbled through the entrance to camp just after 3am.
His chest was unbelievably tight, heart hammering away in his ribcage like it wanted to tear itself from his body, and really that would be a pretty accurate description in general for how he was feeling; like everything just wanted to burst out of him. He would have screamed just to try and see if it would help, but the last thing he wanted was for the clan to see him like this; disheveled, shaky, borderline manic. He was desperate for some sort of clarity, for someone to just tell him what the fuck he was supposed to be doing, because quite frankly Cold didn't know anymore. He didn't know what any of it meant or what the 'right' thing was- all he knew was that he didn't trust himself to provide the answers. He'd twisted himself up too much to navigate his own maze to any kind of epihany, and he was tired of trying.
There was only one cat left that he could trust. One cat who might be able to help him make sense of it.
The den was silent as he stepped into the entryway, and had his mind been calm he might have turned around to let the medicine cat have their rest instead of bothering t hem over something so ridiculous, but in that moment Coldsnap didn't have the ability to reason. He was desperate for something to untwist his thoughts and slow his racing heart, and so he called out into the darkness and hoped that they'd forgive him for it later.
"Dandelionwish, I- I need to talk to you. Please." his voice was raw from screaming at Hyacinth and his claws ached from having flexed them into the frozen earth, but those were the last of his concerns.
windclan warrior - male - 10 months - a large, dark grey tabby with yellow eyes
I LONG FOR THE FEELING TO NOT FEEL AT ALL
THE HIGHER I GET, THE LOWER I SINK
I CAN'T DROWN MY DEMONS, THEY KNOW HOW TO SWIM
He couldn't think straight anymore. Didn't trust himself to, anymore.
He'd thought he'd had it figured out when he first came to Windclan, that he could show their leader loyalty and then weed out the disloyal by seeing who wasn't willing to do the same. It would be clear cut, and he could ice out anyone that didn't fit the mold of what he was looking for. Because after everything he'd lost, Coldsnap hadn't had time to waste his energy on cats that didn't plan on sticking around. He'd happily cut the dead weight loose and walk among those who were cut from a cloth more like his own and it would be the end to his problems. Maybe he wouldn't have friends, maybe he wouldnt be well liked, but he also wouldn't be opening himself up to more pain in the future. He could continue to circle and protect that jagged, bleeding shards of his heart without having to worry about who he let close because only the worthy would have been able to earn any kind of proximity.
But those were the imuplsive whims of child, a defense mechanism born from a confused, lonely, angry, kid whose instintice reaction had been to withdraw from the pain.
The problem was that he wasn't a kit anymore. He couldn't keep cutting the world into black and white when he was drowning in the grey. Couldn't keep hiding himself away from a pain that was no longer there. This wasn't the marsh. These cats didn't want to leave the moors. He was okay. He was fine. So why couldn't he fucking let it go? Why couldn't he convince the rest of himself that it was okay to stop holding on? He had made the decision that night with Dandelion to walk a better path, to stop torturing himself and to do some actual good for the cats around him, but he felt like he hadn't moved an inch despite the weeks that had flown by.
He'd stood by while Emberfang tried to speak the truth. He'd pushed Rosepaw away right til the very fucking end.
But it was his talk with Hyacinth that pushed him over the edge. She was the only adult he'd ever let into his life, the only one he'd ever come to listen to and respect, and her resignition had flown in the face of everything she'd ever taught him.
Just like that, he'd lost the last of the solid ground beneath his feet.
His return to camp that night was late, far beyond the hours that any sane cat would find themselves up, and yet for Coldsnap his return was early. Not due back until dawn, the large tomcat stumbled through the entrance to camp just after 3am.
His chest was unbelievably tight, heart hammering away in his ribcage like it wanted to tear itself from his body, and really that would be a pretty accurate description in general for how he was feeling; like everything just wanted to burst out of him. He would have screamed just to try and see if it would help, but the last thing he wanted was for the clan to see him like this; disheveled, shaky, borderline manic. He was desperate for some sort of clarity, for someone to just tell him what the fuck he was supposed to be doing, because quite frankly Cold didn't know anymore. He didn't know what any of it meant or what the 'right' thing was- all he knew was that he didn't trust himself to provide the answers. He'd twisted himself up too much to navigate his own maze to any kind of epihany, and he was tired of trying.
There was only one cat left that he could trust. One cat who might be able to help him make sense of it.
The den was silent as he stepped into the entryway, and had his mind been calm he might have turned around to let the medicine cat have their rest instead of bothering t hem over something so ridiculous, but in that moment Coldsnap didn't have the ability to reason. He was desperate for something to untwist his thoughts and slow his racing heart, and so he called out into the darkness and hoped that they'd forgive him for it later.
"Dandelionwish, I- I need to talk to you. Please." his voice was raw from screaming at Hyacinth and his claws ached from having flexed them into the frozen earth, but those were the last of his concerns.
windclan warrior - male - 10 months - a large, dark grey tabby with yellow eyes
