[ he'd tapdanced out of the way of "if you trust me" because it's still something he's on uncertain ground with. some things he trusts dirk with; some he's still uneasy about. but maybe wanting not to be misunderstood should count for something, also. and he doesn't think dirk could ever have described what he'd simply shown dave. not well enough.
dave's pretty sure every description he's ever given was unequal to simply showing dirk a memory of bro. but he'd been so very careful to keep all his feelings out because they were never something anyone else should have to feel.
there's absolutely a few false starts that are mostly a blast of nerves and tangled thoughts before dave forces himself to breath in and out.
just let it go.
your name is dave strider and you are never alone - maybe. when you were much younger your bro was around more often but usually he's a violent robotic entity you rarely manage to see because you just aren't fast enough or strong enough or good enough. if bro isn't there - sometimes he leaves, you think, but you're never sure - then cal is. cal moves, too. sometimes you don't think it's bro moving him, but you're never sure. in these rooms there's always a presence that sets your nerves on edge, always at the corner of your eyes or just in the back of your mind. there's always a trap or a fight or a test. you don't live alone but you never know where the other person is, and he never speaks to you except once in a blue moon or through notes and weird riddles and games you have never been able to comprehend, and he never touches you unless you're fighting. he barely touches you even then, because it's always a puppet or a sword or a kick with a shoe or one of his inane fighting styles that you can't even keep track of.
you can never calm down but you can pretend you can. you tell yourself a million lies every day about what happens and why and how, and you share those lies with your friends or tell them nothing at all. the truth is, you're just not good enough. you're too small too weak too stupid and you aren't worthy of bro's attention or love and you can't earn it no matter how hard you try because you never measure up. you're terrified he'll leave you alone or decide - finally - that you're not even worth trying to train, even though sometimes you wish that would happen and then hate yourself for it. you're terrified your friends will leave you when they realize what bro has always known: you're nothing at all. bro's a hero, and you never will be; you're less of a person than even the puppet cabal, and you have nothing to offer anyone except jokes and a million words to cover up every truth that's ever looked your way. sometimes you can disconnect and not think about anything at all but stupid comics and photographs and whatever else comes you way, and those times are the best times; they are only overshadowed by talking to your friends, safely hidden hundreds of miles away and behind your jokes and text so you can play pretend that your bro is your biggest fan. you pretend you do not spend your days and nights sneaking around your own home trying not to invite anything worse than what is already coming. you're fast, but you're never fast enough. you can never predict how your days will go, and you can never outrun them. absconding is never an option; stalling sometimes is.
you want someone to care about you, but you can't ever let them know you. you want to reach out to your friends, and you do, but you never reach out all the way. you aren't sure if you want them to take your hand or not, because you link touch with pain but worse than that you don't want to feel them letting go when they figure out who you actually are. you are not worth their time or love and you know it but you're too selfish to tell them that. you want to be anywhere else, all the time, but you know there is nowhere else to go. you want to be alone, you want bro and cal to sleep or something and let you be, but it never happens. none of this matters, because you do not deserve to want anything when you don't even deserve the life you have and the training your bro tries to give you. ]
no subject
[ he'd tapdanced out of the way of "if you trust me" because it's still something he's on uncertain ground with. some things he trusts dirk with; some he's still uneasy about. but maybe wanting not to be misunderstood should count for something, also. and he doesn't think dirk could ever have described what he'd simply shown dave. not well enough.
dave's pretty sure every description he's ever given was unequal to simply showing dirk a memory of bro. but he'd been so very careful to keep all his feelings out because they were never something anyone else should have to feel.
there's absolutely a few false starts that are mostly a blast of nerves and tangled thoughts before dave forces himself to breath in and out.
just let it go.
your name is dave strider and you are never alone - maybe. when you were much younger your bro was around more often but usually he's a violent robotic entity you rarely manage to see because you just aren't fast enough or strong enough or good enough. if bro isn't there - sometimes he leaves, you think, but you're never sure - then cal is. cal moves, too. sometimes you don't think it's bro moving him, but you're never sure. in these rooms there's always a presence that sets your nerves on edge, always at the corner of your eyes or just in the back of your mind. there's always a trap or a fight or a test. you don't live alone but you never know where the other person is, and he never speaks to you except once in a blue moon or through notes and weird riddles and games you have never been able to comprehend, and he never touches you unless you're fighting. he barely touches you even then, because it's always a puppet or a sword or a kick with a shoe or one of his inane fighting styles that you can't even keep track of.
you can never calm down but you can pretend you can. you tell yourself a million lies every day about what happens and why and how, and you share those lies with your friends or tell them nothing at all. the truth is, you're just not good enough. you're too small too weak too stupid and you aren't worthy of bro's attention or love and you can't earn it no matter how hard you try because you never measure up. you're terrified he'll leave you alone or decide - finally - that you're not even worth trying to train, even though sometimes you wish that would happen and then hate yourself for it. you're terrified your friends will leave you when they realize what bro has always known: you're nothing at all. bro's a hero, and you never will be; you're less of a person than even the puppet cabal, and you have nothing to offer anyone except jokes and a million words to cover up every truth that's ever looked your way. sometimes you can disconnect and not think about anything at all but stupid comics and photographs and whatever else comes you way, and those times are the best times; they are only overshadowed by talking to your friends, safely hidden hundreds of miles away and behind your jokes and text so you can play pretend that your bro is your biggest fan. you pretend you do not spend your days and nights sneaking around your own home trying not to invite anything worse than what is already coming. you're fast, but you're never fast enough. you can never predict how your days will go, and you can never outrun them. absconding is never an option; stalling sometimes is.
you want someone to care about you, but you can't ever let them know you. you want to reach out to your friends, and you do, but you never reach out all the way. you aren't sure if you want them to take your hand or not, because you link touch with pain but worse than that you don't want to feel them letting go when they figure out who you actually are. you are not worth their time or love and you know it but you're too selfish to tell them that. you want to be anywhere else, all the time, but you know there is nowhere else to go. you want to be alone, you want bro and cal to sleep or something and let you be, but it never happens. none of this matters, because you do not deserve to want anything when you don't even deserve the life you have and the training your bro tries to give you. ]