stupid, stupid, STUPID —
the wayward redhawk raged at nothing and everything all at once. he tore at the earth with needling puppy teeth, oblivious to the taste of earthy verdure caking his mouth.
it wasn't fair.
they were supposed to care about him. they were supposed to find him. but they hadn't, and the reality of abandonment was starting to grip peregrine like a vice tightening around his chest. the more he thought about the warm embrace of his mother and the gentle rasp of his father's voice, the more keenly he felt their absence. the more he felt stupid for wanting it. he wasn't a baby anymore, so he didn't really need that kind of comfort. but his parents should have wanted to give it anyway. they should have loved him enough to try. and they didn't.
so the war raged on in the tempestuous boy, a vicious clash between aching feelings of neglect and budding resentment toward the desire that led him to such hurt. he only wanted to feel loved, but that want had brought him to this — this feeling like he couldn't quite breathe, like the world was closing in around him. not that he really understood any of the war raging in his head. in fact, his thoughts were much simpler than the true depth of the feeling —
it was stupid, and he hated it.
with a weak snarl, he turned his hurt-fueled rage toward the nearest bush. ripping up grass and moss and dirt just wasn't satisfying. the branches snapped and tore at his mouth, flying in all directions, and finally he felt some relief. maybe it was the destruction that scratched the itch — or maybe he just needed to hurt on the outside as much as he did on the inside.
the wayward redhawk raged at nothing and everything all at once. he tore at the earth with needling puppy teeth, oblivious to the taste of earthy verdure caking his mouth.
it wasn't fair.
they were supposed to care about him. they were supposed to find him. but they hadn't, and the reality of abandonment was starting to grip peregrine like a vice tightening around his chest. the more he thought about the warm embrace of his mother and the gentle rasp of his father's voice, the more keenly he felt their absence. the more he felt stupid for wanting it. he wasn't a baby anymore, so he didn't really need that kind of comfort. but his parents should have wanted to give it anyway. they should have loved him enough to try. and they didn't.
so the war raged on in the tempestuous boy, a vicious clash between aching feelings of neglect and budding resentment toward the desire that led him to such hurt. he only wanted to feel loved, but that want had brought him to this — this feeling like he couldn't quite breathe, like the world was closing in around him. not that he really understood any of the war raging in his head. in fact, his thoughts were much simpler than the true depth of the feeling —
it was stupid, and he hated it.
with a weak snarl, he turned his hurt-fueled rage toward the nearest bush. ripping up grass and moss and dirt just wasn't satisfying. the branches snapped and tore at his mouth, flying in all directions, and finally he felt some relief. maybe it was the destruction that scratched the itch — or maybe he just needed to hurt on the outside as much as he did on the inside.
ic date: 06/21/2021
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Messages In This Thread
i know it sucks bein' around me. so does life - don't @ me, don't doubt me - by Peregrine - June 25, 2021, 03:06 PM
RE: i know it sucks bein' around me. so does life - don't @ me, don't doubt me - by Buzzard - June 25, 2021, 03:58 PM