@diegrets said : “there’s what is easy and then there’s what is right. if you confuse the two, there’s no telling what you become.”
EASY VERSUS RIGHT / THE COMMON THEME OF THIS WORLD. all it does is take, scratch, kill, bite --- plucking everything out of an individual, leaving them unrecognizable and their corpse dry. figuratively and literally. you’ve seen the outcome firsthand of this vile world; the betrayal of people you’ve trusted and the deaths of those closest to you. the tense emotions of the world used to ooze out of you, spilling everything and leaving a carmine mess trailing behind you. now, the past is all you fight for --- it’s the only thing left to fight for.
“save the monologue.” the words are more sardonic than expected, becoming more of a normalcy than usual. you’re tired; just like everyone else. the repetitive cycle of surviving, fighting, nearly dying, repeat. nothing changes --- what do you keep fighting for if nothing changes? the past can only hold enough motivation for so long. your golden heart remains pumping, the rarity of your blood flowing through your veins; everyone changes and looks for the easiest route, rather than the right path. if anyone sees eye-to-eye on the topic and this repulsive world, it’s you and glenn.
“i used to be a cop before all of this --- only for a day though.” you confess, leaning your back against the cement wall of the prison cell. the archaic paint is splitting, grey chips lying on the concrete ground next to your feet; everything is dying. it’s a reminder of the world that stole your first day on the police force and kept its grasp tight on the rest of your life. it’s killed everything, whether it’s people you’ve known or the life you used to own. “i wanted to protect people; i wanted to do the right thing.” the oath you swore; to serve and protect. the faces of those on your first day at raccoon city, flesh betwixt their teeth, ichor dripping from their mouths; you’ve never forgotten it. it haunts you when you sleep, your eyes gazing at the ceiling in remembrance more than in slumber.
a sigh worms itself out from your throat, toned arms crossing themselves over your chest tightly, as if it’s a comfort blanket to protect you from this world. there’s nothing comforting in this world --- there’s nothing to protect anyone. “the city got nuked from the government --- there was no survivors besides me, another woman, and a little girl.” their smiling faces are one of the only colorful memories in your frontal lobe. hand-in-hand, waltzing in the sunset as survivors; if only you knew what the world held in store for all of you. “i tried to do the right thing --- if i did the easy thing, i probably would’ve survived. i would’ve stayed home and not have came into the city. but the two others? i don’t know if they would’ve survived.” the answer is easy to calculate, leaving a bleak and gloomy incense forming in your stomach. it’s sickening to imagine it, creating a sense of nausea you can’t stomach, so you wash it from your mind rapidly.
a hand is raised to your forehead, rubbing momentarily before your head shakes. “i know who i am. i am starting to wonder who half this group is, though.”
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