I think this is supposed to be a journal entry. At least, that's what my muse tells me, but he's a chronic liar, so I might be wrong... anyway, whatever it is, please R&R! (BTW, first Andromeda fic I've ever actually posted. I've got dozens of others locked away somewhere on my computer. If you're nice and you like this I might finish and post them too. In other words, feedback good, silence bad.)
"... Don't strain,
'cause nothing ever comes from it,
And the people we become, well, they've never been the people who we are."
-- Matchbox 20 "Busted"
I'm not even the same person anymore.
After everything, I just gave up.
But what's wrong with that? And why is some part of me so disgusted with who I've become?
I don't know. Thinking about it gives me a headache. So I continue to drown my disturbing thoughts in moonshine and hide from the truth behind the female inhabitants of Seefra. By the Divine, that sounds like something Dylan would tell me.
He's the only one who hasn't changed very much. He's still as determined as ever. It's just a different goal now. Instead of reconstructing the Commonwealth or fighting for its future, it's getting the Andromeda back in shape so he can restore his now-corrupted dream.
A part of me wants to go with him. That's the logical part, the part that is left over from before the Route of Ages.
So am I now two people? On one side, the charming, respected High Guard officer, who was once leader of the most powerful political movement on Tarazed. Then there's the darker side, the Telemachus Rhade I am now: the cynical, jaded alcoholic who can't seem to get past anything.
The broken warrior.
Every once in a while, something Harper told me once drifts though all the crap floating around in the cest pool that is now my mind. It was part of a story I can't remember at the moment, but it was the one line that stuck: The Universe hates you; deal with it. It was that simple logic, something that could have come strait from my father's mouth that made me realize that maybe we weren't so different after all, Humans and Nietzscheans.
Now I have a headache again. I've concluded that the only viable solution is to stop thinking altogether. So farewell, Sanity. If I have anything to say about it, we shall not meet again.