♡let's remember what I've tried to forget♡

I used to be the type that people could use easily. I'd warm under their every compliment and shatter like glass if an ill word was directed towards me. I was meek, and eager to please, and over and over again I'd let them sway and break me like a willow tree.

I think I'm better now.

After the final attack, I realized what I was and was struck with sadness and loss. I felt alone, used, and worthless. So, I took some string and a hook and fished out my heart, leaving my ribcage cavernous and empty.

I'm somewhat colder now. No one likes me quite as much as they used to, and the talk of me being a heartless witch, an unpredictable being who could turn on you any moment and would feel no remorse if they did.

How strange it is that people so vastly prefer that which they can control and mold, and doesn't remain as distant and untouchable as a cliffside over the sea. I gave away pieces of me like the rotting parts of a leper, but once they grew back I'm not quite as desirable as I used to be.

The most unusual part is that I'm truly kinder now than I used to be. I'd be cruel to them behind their backs to please others, and crow at their mistakes.

Now, I am strong. I defend myself, and them as well, and never turn my back on someone. I do not crumble and accept mistreatment, and do not fear speaking my mind.

However, that's not really what they look for. They fail to see that now I stand up for them and to them, and wish instead that I would once again live to serve, scuttling like a rat. That is what they like. That is what they themselves do, speaking false and saccharine words to one another's masked faces but readying the dagger the moment anyone dares to turn their back. This is accepted as fact, as the ways things should be. Compared to their way, they see mine as needlessly harsh, and cluck in disapproval at my rebellion even when I'm protecting them. I am seen as the real villain, instead of those who slowly tore me to pieces when no one was looking, using the far more acceptable methods of subtlety and deceit.

No, I am far more of a terrible being, because I dared to admit that it happened.

Some day, I'll leave them forever.

Residue of heartstrings cling to my bones, crying out in affection towards my comrades and trying to make me stay, but I understand now that they hurt me, and will continue to do so. I understand that I am a person, not their docile plaything, and will one day break free entirely from the world of my older, cowardly self.

I'll be free. I'll live without fear, and no one will be able to cut through me ever again.

♡let's care about something pointless♡

I have a little grey cat who creeps over to me whenever I'm reading.

She stares at me, her apple-green eyes wide and nervous, but all pretense vanishes when I scoop her into an embrace, and she settles down quite peacefully. She'll lay down on my chest with her face inches from mine, those peculiar eyes of hers calmly watching me as I stare over her head at the pages. She has a very particular way of resting - her hind legs tucked under her with her body completely even, her head slightly tilted down, and her tiny front paws evenly poking out in front of her, prim and precise as a pair of gloved hands. I named her after a goddess because I consider her unusually elegant for a small cat, and so far she's well lived up to that name.

She'll stay that way from anywhere from hours to minutes, but the moment I cough or a loud noise is heard in the next room, her eyes will go as big as saucers, her ears will lay flat on her head, and she'll take off like a bat out of hell to the nearest hiding place.

Of course, despite her constant abrupt departures, she'll always come back later, cautious and strange as ever.

I suppose there are a lot of people out there with a similiar attitude.