[It's still confusing. With most people, she'd already have given up. She gets the sense that he would have, too. That bolsters her, although only about halfway because she's honored by it or anything like that. She's just too stubborn to fail to understand when he's led her this far.]
[She's on the verge of asking another question when the last part comes through, and that . . . that does clarify some things. What she really wants to know isn't about hope or despair or saving the world from destruction, it's about Komaeda. Why did he cause all that damage? Now she knows.]
[He was lonely. He wanted a purpose, something to throw his whole life into. Even if it's not something she can entirely identify with . . . yeah. It's very human. She can see parts of herself in it, like patchworks of skin overlaid on her mental image of Komaeda.]
[She reads the whole thing over again with the image of a lonely kid adrift at the front of her mind, hand still moving absently on the paper. When she looks down, it's a small, messy drawing of a cat. With a sigh, she puts it aside.]
i think i get what you're saying. most of it, anyway.
i don't really know what to say, though. like, i think you're expecting me to condemn you or something, but i'm not going to. maybe that's fucked up of me. it's objectively bad that you did all that, but i don't really care about that. i'm pissed somebody used you and i'm pissed that you killed yourself and it sucks that you still think you're better off here than somewhere better, but that's
i mean, that's it.
[Is he going to hate her for that? She doesn't even think of it until she's sent it. A dull resignation settles heavy in her chest like an infection. He would have found out eventually anyway. There's no point stopping.]
maybe it's because i don't really believe in hope. or trust it, or something. and i don't care about most people. i care
it just sucks that you thought you had to die to fix things for everybody and i wouldn't give a shit if millions of people died but i'd care if you did.
no subject
[She's on the verge of asking another question when the last part comes through, and that . . . that does clarify some things. What she really wants to know isn't about hope or despair or saving the world from destruction, it's about Komaeda. Why did he cause all that damage? Now she knows.]
[He was lonely. He wanted a purpose, something to throw his whole life into. Even if it's not something she can entirely identify with . . . yeah. It's very human. She can see parts of herself in it, like patchworks of skin overlaid on her mental image of Komaeda.]
[She reads the whole thing over again with the image of a lonely kid adrift at the front of her mind, hand still moving absently on the paper. When she looks down, it's a small, messy drawing of a cat. With a sigh, she puts it aside.]
i think i get what you're saying. most of it, anyway.
i don't really know what to say, though. like, i think you're expecting me to condemn you or something, but i'm not going to. maybe that's fucked up of me. it's objectively bad that you did all that, but i don't really care about that. i'm pissed somebody used you and i'm pissed that you killed yourself and it sucks that you still think you're better off here than somewhere better, but that's
i mean, that's it.
[Is he going to hate her for that? She doesn't even think of it until she's sent it. A dull resignation settles heavy in her chest like an infection. He would have found out eventually anyway. There's no point stopping.]
maybe it's because i don't really believe in hope. or trust it, or something. and i don't care about most people. i care
it just sucks that you thought you had to die to fix things for everybody and i wouldn't give a shit if millions of people died but i'd care if you did.