@solisavior ^^
it’s the kind of day that slogs upon the soul. rika is tired, tired, feeling more like a picked at scab than her own person. seeing how the sun has barely even begun to set upon the horizon, she doesn’t understand how there are still more hours to go before she can go to bed. there are things she needs to do and get done, yes, but it is difficult to call forward her usual outward zest and open up her emails. it’s how it always feels after she visits the therapists and speaks ; she isn’t used to putting to words the darkness from inside, and whenever she does it feels like the claws dig into her heavier, deeper. v thinks it’ll help, but she feels more brutal, more ripped apart into two, more -–– more of less of a person.
she sighs, getting a mug of tea for herself and trying to quiet the buzzing of her head. days like this have her shoulders hunched. days like this she is glad for an empty house, because she can’t allow anyone to see this weakness of her own self. days like this are too long, too frequent and too overwhelming. it’s the kind of day where she can’t look anyone in the eye -–– not even her own reflection. but eventually, she does. has to, because in the way that she’s been avoiding it, she almost feels drawn to stand in front of the mirror and face herself. something feels and seems -––– off. she figures it’s the way her words she was forced to spew lay upon herself. rika shakes her head.
❛ come on. pull yourself together. ❜