A short drabble on Terezi and her depression. Mentions of Gamzee/Terezi Blackrom. Triggers-cutting, self harm, depression, abusive relationships, and self loathing. Please be careful and skip this chapter if it triggers you.
Terezi Pyrope was in a horrible position.
She was curled up in the hollow of a tree, crying her teal-tinted tears. They were streaming down her face.
There was teal-tinted blood smeared all over her arm.
She had hit rock bottom. And she knew it too.
There was nothing left in her. Nothing that she could see, at least. Dave and Karkat insisted that she was amazing. In fact, Karkat had just come over to her and told her that. So why was her arm bleeding? Why did she still feel empty and numb?
She didn't know. Honestly, she didn't know about anything anymore. Everything was a blurry mess filled with voices telling her she was worthless. Everything was a struggle, from moving out of her recoupracoon, to putting a smile on her face. She had a long and horrible spiral downwards in to this pit of self hate.
It had started with the abusive friendship with Vriska, she supposed. Then it hadn't seemed like it, but then again, what ever seems like it is? She was so young, and there were already a pile of bodies at her feet.
There was no reason to get her eyesight back, none. But she had done it anyway. Her mistake, too. She had willingly given up a part of herself. A piece of her, a huge piece. Gone, and there wasn't anyway of getting it back. She was already forgetting what it was like to smell the world. The way everything was different. And in doing that, she was forgetting herself.
Her spiral had quickened when she started that stupid kismesistude with Gamzee. Neither of them knew how to properly do the black quadrant, and she knew it. But when they hurt each other, she felt better. She deserved the pain and the sadness of loosing one of her friends to hate.
But there was one thing she always knew was wrong, because sometimes she would be OK with herself, for a fleeting moment. But there was one thing that never passed.
She was never going to be as perfect as her ancestor. Latula was so, well, as she had told Karkat, radical. It wasn't fair. She had tried so hard, and in the end there was always going to be someone better than her. Someone that she could have been so easily. Latula had a matespriteship that was perfect, her friends loved her, and she was so sassy, everything that Terezi had wanted to be. She wanted to be just like her, but if that happened she would be coping and that would add to the list of horrible things about herself. Every one that knew her had left in some way or another. Everyone would eventually. Terezi Pyrope wanted to escape the inevitable day that she would be completely and utterly alone.
But she knew that there was no escape. There is no way back. There is no way to fix her past mistakes. No way to make everything better again. And that hurt more than she could ever describe.
And that is why there was a razor in her hand, a piece of metal from the meteor. It was dripping her blood and smelled like her. It was cold against her skin and the only way that she could focus her pain. A way to untangle her emotions in to one slice.
No one else knew, and no one else ever would. She was ashamed of herself, and her scars. If she had her way Terezi Pyrope would have never existed. But that wasn't going to happen because she was too far deep into this universe. She needed to save her friends, even if they didn't care about her.
And that is why Terezi Pyrope, who used to be going places, who used to be happy, who used to be fun, was crying in a hollow of a tree. She hated herself. She hated who she had become. And no one cared.
