[ There's a brief instant where her eyes flash hurt. It's not even a second, but the feeling hits hard — does everyone plan to simply disregard her existence unless she's willing to bare the deepest pits of her soul on demand? These are things she can't put into words even inside her own head; how could she possibly hope to make anyone else understand?
Maybe there's nothing left to be except the mask, she thinks. No one seems to like the Julie that's behind it. She's too broken, too fragile. Not strong enough to just pull herself up by her fucking bootstraps when she's dragged from paradise to go back to carrying all the weight she's been pretending she could handle.
People want the giggles and the smiles and the sparkles, the butterflies and bubblegum sweetness. Parties and fun and sex and drugs and glitter, that's all they care for. A cheerleader in the background for their own drama. Not someone with her own past, her own psyche shattered like glass. As long as she keeps the shards in a neat, hidden pile, then everything's hunky-dory, isn't it?
She doesn't know what to say. She feels unwelcome in a place she hadn't asked to be in the first place, in a conversation that she wasn't given much room to ease into. Julie is rarely at a loss for words, but she stands in silence, walking toward the door that still feels like her own. Her hand hovers at the knob, her voice quiet and her face not turned toward him. ]
You can't get it back, you know. What they take from you is always gone forever.
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Maybe there's nothing left to be except the mask, she thinks. No one seems to like the Julie that's behind it. She's too broken, too fragile. Not strong enough to just pull herself up by her fucking bootstraps when she's dragged from paradise to go back to carrying all the weight she's been pretending she could handle.
People want the giggles and the smiles and the sparkles, the butterflies and bubblegum sweetness. Parties and fun and sex and drugs and glitter, that's all they care for. A cheerleader in the background for their own drama. Not someone with her own past, her own psyche shattered like glass. As long as she keeps the shards in a neat, hidden pile, then everything's hunky-dory, isn't it?
She doesn't know what to say. She feels unwelcome in a place she hadn't asked to be in the first place, in a conversation that she wasn't given much room to ease into. Julie is rarely at a loss for words, but she stands in silence, walking toward the door that still feels like her own. Her hand hovers at the knob, her voice quiet and her face not turned toward him. ]
You can't get it back, you know. What they take from you is always gone forever.