04-10-2021, 09:43 PM
kensley
i swore the days were over of courting empty dreams
There is no hesitation in her answer. She delivers it without pause and he wonders if he should be ashamed of his. Is he selfish in his want to spare himself the suffering? Does this make him a coward? There has been so much suffering already and he knows that he has deserved every moment of agony, but he is so horribly tired.
He has to wonder, though, how a father’s love differs from a mother’s. How would Anaxarete have answered the question? There is a spasm of pain deep in his chest, though it does not seem to originate in the heart. He swallows and nods his understanding. Of course a mother’s love is not the same as a father’s. Of course a mother will endure things for her children that a father could not begin to imagine.
He thinks of his first daughter and how he had left her and hadn’t even died to do it. Guilt festers in his gut like a wound. He is drawn from his thoughts only when she speaks and he nods again, slowly this time, distracted.
“I suppose I am,” he muses, head tilted. “But if I’m cursed it’s only because I’m a coward.” He rolls his tired shoulders in a shrug. “Because I’m not willing to suffer for my children.” He had learned how to live with the knowledge that he had never been the best son or brother or lover but he does not know how to come to terms with this newfound truth, the understanding that perhaps he is not a good father either.
He has to wonder, though, how a father’s love differs from a mother’s. How would Anaxarete have answered the question? There is a spasm of pain deep in his chest, though it does not seem to originate in the heart. He swallows and nods his understanding. Of course a mother’s love is not the same as a father’s. Of course a mother will endure things for her children that a father could not begin to imagine.
He thinks of his first daughter and how he had left her and hadn’t even died to do it. Guilt festers in his gut like a wound. He is drawn from his thoughts only when she speaks and he nods again, slowly this time, distracted.
“I suppose I am,” he muses, head tilted. “But if I’m cursed it’s only because I’m a coward.” He rolls his tired shoulders in a shrug. “Because I’m not willing to suffer for my children.” He had learned how to live with the knowledge that he had never been the best son or brother or lover but he does not know how to come to terms with this newfound truth, the understanding that perhaps he is not a good father either.
i worshipped at the altar of losing everything
@[City]