And Raph's eyes move to the ground. "I don't know."
He pauses for a beat, kicks half-heartedly at the blanket of leaves covering the forest floor. To him it's all the same, each subject congealed into a uniform evil that is the dark places of his mind. All of it hurts, and all of them are things he can't do a thing about. So he swallows it.
"It's...better not to think about it."
Which is an odd thing for him to say in its own right. Raph constantly thinks about everything. No, even worse, he dwells on it, turning things over in his head until it twits and distorts, leaving him to make his own warped conclusions.
But when he drinks, he can forget. He can numb the constant barrage of the shit-storm that is his brain. And to him, that makes sense. It all makes perfect sense in a way that's completely and utterly nonsensical.
no subject
He pauses for a beat, kicks half-heartedly at the blanket of leaves covering the forest floor. To him it's all the same, each subject congealed into a uniform evil that is the dark places of his mind. All of it hurts, and all of them are things he can't do a thing about. So he swallows it.
"It's...better not to think about it."
Which is an odd thing for him to say in its own right. Raph constantly thinks about everything. No, even worse, he dwells on it, turning things over in his head until it twits and distorts, leaving him to make his own warped conclusions.
But when he drinks, he can forget. He can numb the constant barrage of the shit-storm that is his brain. And to him, that makes sense. It all makes perfect sense in a way that's completely and utterly nonsensical.