Work Text:
You are looking at yourself in the mirror, but it’s not you. It never was. You don’t know who it is, or even who you are supposed to be. Everything feels wrong. The thing is, it’s that kind of looks like you, like what you’ve always looked like but it’s not you. You are not supposed to look like that, to be like that. You don’t know what or who you are meant to be, but that’s definitely not it.
You have your blond hair and blue eyes, many people consider you handsome but you cannot help to feel disgusting. It feels foreign, your body, your mind even. And the other thing is that you’re not even sure how you’re supposed to feel. Because it’s supposed to feel okay, right? But it’s not, and it hurts like freaking hell just to look at yourself and you feel like you’re going to puke all over that sink and maybe that mirror as well and it’s kind of spinning right know and
Breathe.
Deep breath, hands clutching tightly the counter, knuckles white and swallowing with difficulty. Come on breathe. You look at yourself again, just to make sure you are still alive and you are and you are not sure if that is considered a good thing.
And you think again. Because you feel somewhat numb? Maybe, you are not even sure anymore. And you question yourself on who you are supposed to be. You are a boy, a young man at best, but are you really? Or maybe you’re a girl? Or both, or none or maybe somewhere in between or maybe not and it’s just. It’s hard and you can’t even explain anymore.
You were never even able to find what was wrong and then you started questioning yourself and it became an obsession? Kind of? You don’t know, and maybe you don’t want to know? Maybe that’s what’s wrong. Maybe you don’t care enough.
And you breathe again because you feel like it helps somehow. You can feel your heart beating in your ears suddenly and when did that happen? The pain is still there though, it still feels like your insides are burning with sadness and insecurities and self-hate and pain, blind whitening pain. What the fuck is wrong with you?
You feel like you’ve fucked up everything.
And then those arms are around you and his face is in your neck and you want to forget about everything but him. He’s your anchor, the only thing keeping you at surface and it feels good to have him right now. He doesn’t know but it does not matter. It never mattered and it never will because you don’t even deserve him. He’s too good for you and you’re just too much of a waste of space and
“You ready babe?”
You are not. Not at all but what choice do you have? People like you don’t have a choice, you just receive everything you get and wait for something better. And it feels like you are a spoiled brat, an undeserving spoiled brat because you have a career and a beautiful man but it still feels wrong and like it should be someone else but at the same time you don’t want to give it all. Not after everything.
“Luke?”
“Yeah…”
“You alright?”
“I… Yeah I’m fine. ”
“Good,” he says kissing my neck. “Come on, we have a show to play.”
“Coming.”
“I love you Luke you know that, right. With all my freaking heart.”
“Love you too Michael.”