[That's it. He stands up, a very, VERY incensed expression on his face. He's...just completely lost it by now.]
That's the best I can come up with because there isn't really anything else left. What can I do? Engineer some asinine way for me to go out in a blaze of glory? It'd be just as stupidly faked as the rest of my life was. Should I try to find a cure? It might not even be there and I haven't even sorted out the matter of who's going to care for my Pokemon, because for all I know I might have a matter of weeks.
[And he takes a deep breath. Physically, he's been growing steadily worse as well, and it's starting to show.]
I know what I'm doing is pathetic. I know there's probably a half a million more dignified ways to go out, thank you very much for reminding me.
[The look on his face mellows out a little. It's clear he regrets his words, and maybe he hasn't been himself, but good lord, he's not going to use that as an excuse.]
I'm sorry I'm not meeting your expectations. I'm not even meeting my own, either, this is what I've come to. Do you think I like it?! If I go for the full run and this thing takes its course, I lose everything.
Every bit of sentimental garbage that makes up whatever can be called my personality, too, not just biological functions. The body can live without the mind, but I happen to think that's even worse than just dying.
I won't even remember your name.
That is not what I want.
[It's a little more than that, too: if he's going to die, he wants it on his own fucking terms. However gruesome that may be.
no subject
That's the best I can come up with because there isn't really anything else left. What can I do? Engineer some asinine way for me to go out in a blaze of glory? It'd be just as stupidly faked as the rest of my life was. Should I try to find a cure? It might not even be there and I haven't even sorted out the matter of who's going to care for my Pokemon, because for all I know I might have a matter of weeks.
[And he takes a deep breath. Physically, he's been growing steadily worse as well, and it's starting to show.]
I know what I'm doing is pathetic. I know there's probably a half a million more dignified ways to go out, thank you very much for reminding me.
[The look on his face mellows out a little. It's clear he regrets his words, and maybe he hasn't been himself, but good lord, he's not going to use that as an excuse.]
I'm sorry I'm not meeting your expectations. I'm not even meeting my own, either, this is what I've come to. Do you think I like it?! If I go for the full run and this thing takes its course, I lose everything.
Every bit of sentimental garbage that makes up whatever can be called my personality, too, not just biological functions. The body can live without the mind, but I happen to think that's even worse than just dying.
I won't even remember your name.
That is not what I want.
[It's a little more than that, too: if he's going to die, he wants it on his own fucking terms. However gruesome that may be.
He's not entirely sure if she'd understand.]