A/N: Just... feelings.
Soliloquy
"I wish I could feel normal again," Tony mumbled, cradling the crystal tumbler, so gently, so carefully. "I wish I didn't feel so empty. I can't sleep anymore, ya know." He eyed his guest carefully. "Food tastes like chalk. Everything always aches..." He threw back a long draw of the whiskey and slipped deeper into the warmest feeling he'd had in a while. "I'm so tired, exhausted... I-I'm gonna burn out... Like an old engine." He wavered for a moment. "Old engines get replaced. There's always shiny, new ones. Or classics, that people love to spruce up and use again." His gaze fell to the fragile glass. "No body likes old engines..."
"Can't even cry anymore!" He threw his arms up, carelessly and clumsily. The tumbler crashed to the ground, and furious tears swept down his cheeks like a storm. "Can't even feel anything. 'Cept pain. Always feel the pain..." His eyes roved around the room for a moment, landing on his only friend for the time being. "Wanna feel something. Wanna be... be understood, ya know?" He hiccuped.
"Help," he whispered. His muscles were getting away from him and he fell to the floor in a graceless heap. "Can't even build anymore. Got no more ideas. Only hear Dad. Only hear the bad words. Bad Tony. Stupid Tony. Selfish Tony. Ugly Tony. Weak Tony. Emotional Tony." He sobbed. "Can't be... Can't be... Made of iron! Made of gold-aluminum alloy... Wanna be strong... Wanna be smart... Wanna be happy..."
He reached out weakly, hoping for comfort.
The potted plant offered none.