How can i explain the feeling of being numb, the feeling of being dead when I’m alive, the feeling of believing I have no one by my side when in fact I do, the feeling of being unwanted and unloved when there are people that do love and want me.
How do I tell my loved ones, the people that should be the closest to me that I’m not feeling alright. That I feel lonely. Exhausted. Tired.
How do I tell them that I can’t talk to them because I feel like they don’t want to know. Like they don’t care.
What do I tell them when they ask me what exactly is wrong when I can’t even figure it myself.
I keep it to myself. It’s easier to fight against it alone than having to explain something I don’t understand. I don’t want to bother them or be a burden. So it’s just the best if I keep them out of my personal struggles. Out of my personal miserie.
Summary: Loki looks on as you slip into despair over a spilled mug of tea. But then he knows it’s not really about the tea, is it?
Warnings/Notes: Maybe this one is a little bit more autobiographical than my usual Lullabies? My husband broke one of my (many, many) mugs earlier this week and maybe I had to hide myself away and cry my face off because it was just the final straw. Things suck and it’s hard to see any real, actionable way that little people like us can do anything about it, but maybe Loki’s out there keeping an eye on us. Do what you can.
I’ve Got You
He hadn’t meant to do it.
In a way, surely, he wasn’t the one to do it at all. It was Thor. It was always Thor. If it wasn’t his loud excitement, it was his booming anger, or—perhaps most infuriating of all—his childish whininess. That whininess, and the pouting, were all that Loki could think of in the streets with his brother when Midgardian women swarmed them and begged to take pictures with the great and wonderous god. Would they fawn over him the way they did if they knew about the hundred-year strop Thor had thrown late in his adolescence? Surely not.
