Capes are not cool. Except for mine, but that's because mine is a trophy, not a garment.
[Anya, we need to talk about your truthvomit priorities.]
I've been scared and vulnerable almost as long as I can remember. The first thing that really happened to me here, Castiel killed me. And suddenly I feel safer than I have since I was four, because if I don't die then there's a limit to what everyone who's stronger and more dangerous can do to me. Because that's always going to be almost everyone. I can't be like Batman. He's teaching me what he can to defend myself, but there's only so much he can do. If I run for a sixty seconds, I see red and white spots and my body starts to shut down from insufficient oxygen. My lungs were damaged in the fire when I was little, so I can't - I couldn't even keep up with other humans if I'd known any, not even average ones.
[She laughs, and it's a raw, mean sort of giggling.]
At least I'm not a waste of very much air. I've heard that joke from seven different people. I hate it so much.
I don't even really want powers. If I got them and anything was better, it would just prove that all of you are racist assholes and a genetic accident made me a pariah and having lasers or paralytic hands was and always would be more important than who I am. And if I had them and nothing was better, then it would prove that I am so inherently and fundamentally flawed that even having actual superpowers can't stop me from being a miserable walking disaster, and I'm just always going to be evil and reviled.
I'm jealous because of everything that's bound up with power, I'm jealous of not having to be scared all the time and I'm jealous of being significant and of Dad caring at all and of things that probably didn't even happen to you, because I'm basing it on my own version of the family.
God. I wish I was a good enough person to just leave you alone. Because you're going to make it, you know? You've got it right, and the horrible things that happened don't rule you. I shouldn't put my poison back in front of you. But I don't want to back off. I want to be around you and I want you to pay attention to me and I want to watch you learn to be so responsible that I reconsider the inexorable doom of our species. I want to believe, but mostly I just want to feel like someone didn't cut me out, like I can still be part of the family even if it's an awful one.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sarken
private
Date: 2013-02-11 06:41 am (UTC)[Anya, we need to talk about your truthvomit priorities.]
I've been scared and vulnerable almost as long as I can remember. The first thing that really happened to me here, Castiel killed me. And suddenly I feel safer than I have since I was four, because if I don't die then there's a limit to what everyone who's stronger and more dangerous can do to me. Because that's always going to be almost everyone. I can't be like Batman. He's teaching me what he can to defend myself, but there's only so much he can do. If I run for a sixty seconds, I see red and white spots and my body starts to shut down from insufficient oxygen. My lungs were damaged in the fire when I was little, so I can't - I couldn't even keep up with other humans if I'd known any, not even average ones.
[She laughs, and it's a raw, mean sort of giggling.]
At least I'm not a waste of very much air. I've heard that joke from seven different people. I hate it so much.
I don't even really want powers. If I got them and anything was better, it would just prove that all of you are racist assholes and a genetic accident made me a pariah and having lasers or paralytic hands was and always would be more important than who I am. And if I had them and nothing was better, then it would prove that I am so inherently and fundamentally flawed that even having actual superpowers can't stop me from being a miserable walking disaster, and I'm just always going to be evil and reviled.
I'm jealous because of everything that's bound up with power, I'm jealous of not having to be scared all the time and I'm jealous of being significant and of Dad caring at all and of things that probably didn't even happen to you, because I'm basing it on my own version of the family.
God. I wish I was a good enough person to just leave you alone. Because you're going to make it, you know? You've got it right, and the horrible things that happened don't rule you. I shouldn't put my poison back in front of you. But I don't want to back off. I want to be around you and I want you to pay attention to me and I want to watch you learn to be so responsible that I reconsider the inexorable doom of our species. I want to believe, but mostly I just want to feel like someone didn't cut me out, like I can still be part of the family even if it's an awful one.