starchilde_lost: (Do not push me)
[personal profile] starchilde_lost
[Filtered away from Jean Grey]

This is Jean Grey.

Not the Jean from the world I came from, or even the world I was born in, but a Jean nonetheless. Which technically makes her my mother.

She's new and she shouldn't have to deal with that until... later.

So if you can help it, don't tell her. Accidents happen, I get that, but let's be careful, okay?

For my sake. For her sake.

[/Filter]

private | unhackable

Date: 2009-08-02 07:46 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] crackwise
It's not something that you get used to. Getting fucked over, that is. Because it's never in the exact same way and so it always hits your heart differently. Also, the very moment you convince yourself that you should be used to it is also usually the very moment you start giving up. Apathy's an equally awful bitch, Rachel.

And believe me, I don't mind the whining. I'd join in, myself, if you wanted to start.

private | unhackable

Date: 2009-08-02 08:02 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] crackwise
Yeah, I remember that. And, I guess, just... no matter what shortcomings they have, parents are still parents, and for those of us lucky enough to have parents that cared and loved us, this kinda thing adds a lot of insult to injury. To know that she's your mother, memories there or not, and she won't even have much of a reaction when she looks your way at all.

Telling her might be an option. Might be one that ends up being forced, with the curses in the City. I'd suggest you tell her before the deities do, but... doesn't have to be today. Doesn't have to be that soon.

As for it being my turn, I just... I miss my parents, Rach. They cared and looked out for me without missing a beat. No one else ever has.

Which is, of course, why they had to die when I was fifteen, I guess. And die because someone wanted to take a closer peeksie at my ability.

private | unhackable

Date: 2009-08-02 08:15 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] crackwise
Well, if you ever want to bounce your ideas off me, I'm all ears.

Who wanted to pick me apart doesn't matter. Less because I'm bothered, and more because it happens so frequently that it's not the source of my trauma, anymore.

Maybe even I want to know a little more about myself. And others like me.

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Rachel Grey

June 2014

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