I’ve got nothing to hold onto

I cant run, too dangerous to open the door
I cant hide, theres nowhere to go anymore
Ive got nothing to hold on to
I cant break through, living in the eye of the storm

“You’re not happy here.”

Caer could still hear the words he spoke to her standing there in the middle of the pathway.  Tom had stood close to her, his words soft and concerned. It brought back memories of fonder times of the two of them talking for hours about philosophy and life in general. But his words pulled her back to the current time and she had taken a step back to put some distance between them.

How was he able to put so much inflection and tone in those four words? He’d always had a way with words.  Not like her, she couldn’t make it so that she could say something and have it come out the way she intended for it to sound. It always came out wrong, always came out like she had no idea what she was talking about or worse yet, she meant it to be rude or mean.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy. It was that she had nothing to do. She had no purpose, no use and the idea of it chafed her worse than wet leather. The fact that it felt like she’d become less and less of a person and more of a thing to be used, a tool to be wielded; no individuality, no distinction from anyone else. There was nothing to her anymore.

The worst though was that she couldn’t seem to bring herself to really care. She felt so… defeated. She had never felt like that before and it seemed like she just couldn’t bring herself to really want to fight anymore.

The need to get up every day, the need to put on an attitude that wasn’t her, the act of going through the motions of just getting up, facing people, eating food she didn’t really taste, having conversations she didn’t really care to engage herself in and later remember; it just wasn’t there anymore.

I’m watching all of these dark clouds
Im watching blue skies turn to gray
And the lightning has struck ground
And a million eyes start to rain
Im watching everything go down
Im watching everything wash away
Lonely streets don’t talk now
Nobody hears what they got to say

All her conversations turned to fights. All her efforts melted in the rain and all her accomplishments felt like she’d buried them under the lowest level of Coruscant. Had she really become that different? What had been so life changing that she couldn’t be the person she used to be. Off hand comments that those she knew used to make people laugh or chide her teasingly were now the source of everyone’s ire.

It was depressing. That’s what it was. It was depressing to feel like she had to struggle to even just be herself. Deep down it hurt and she buried that hurt more and more every day. It hurt and depressed that she served no purpose. It hurt even more knowing that it was partially her fault. Her fault for trying to be the good soldier. Trying to do the right thing and failing every time.  It was easier to bury that hurt, the low self esteem and the lack of usefulness with a flippant callous attitude that pushed people away.   I t was just more simple to make people want to be anywhere else than near her.

I know I got to be strong
But its hard to hold on and on and on and on and on

She was lonely on some level. She knew that was a big part of it. Caer knew that her attitude of kriff ’em and leave them probably made her sound sluttier than she intended, but it seemed like that was what was expected of her. Afterall it was easier to claim being more promiscuous than she actually was. It wasn’t even the idea of being with someone, but more the thought of having someone she could go to and talk without judgement. Someone she could trust with her life. Vaulk was good for a lay or two and some good drinks, but she knew that he’d turn on her faster than a rabid manka cat if the mood struck him. She supposed that was part of the appeal.  But still- she wanted a confidant. Someone she could trust implicitly. Someone who wouldn’t hold anything over her head, stab her in the back or worse, go tattling over a needed vent of frustration.

So numb, surrounded by a violent force
Inside, fighting through a deepening war
I need something to hold on to
To get me through, living in the eye of the storm

Caer thought about the past few days. Her conversation with Ani and how she said she wanted to try and fix things. That she wanted to try and find a way to fit into the group. It was something she had wanted to make an effort towards.

But the conversation from earlier made her want to reconsider that effort. Caer didn’t want to think about the whole mess, she didn’t want to consider the ramifications of it all. But her mind rolled forward like an overburdened mine cart set free on a track. Caer’d had no idea that Alti had been taken. She’d just assumed the woman had ran into pirates- it was kind of in her job description it seemed.  She’d dismissed it as something she assumed someone else was handling.

Then the subject of Vyennis had come up and Caer had made her usual comments. Usually a ridiculous and totally impossible threat of violence towards someone and the backlash had been almost enough to knock her off the ledge. It had been hard not to throw up her defenses and claw back at all the cattiness that had been thrown her way.

Instead, she’d walked off. She’d forced herself not to feel anything and walk away with her head held high.

How did any of it make sense? A joke about violence go so terribly wrong, yet when a conversation so casually spoken on comms about crushing kneecaps and harming a prisoner was considered okay? Where did this double standard come from and how could she learn the rules of the game so she could participate?  That was what she’d nearly asked Tom as they stood there and he tried to draw her out.

She was so tired of trying to learn rules that felt like they were constantly changing. It exhausted her to try and keep up. Instead she had told Tom that it seemed ridiculous that a conversation would take a turn like that since everyone played knights who wear white gloves to hide all the blood on their hands. Nobody was an innocent. Nobody was free of the blood.

Caer couldn’t even remember what his answer to that had been. She’d just walked away.

And she kept walking.

Watching open hearts breaking
Watching lovers turn to enemies
All of our memories fading
We forget the ones we really need
Watching evil men break dreams
Watching good intentions turn to greed
Never satisfied taking
All the power just couldn’t be

Now we got to be strong
But it’s hard hold on and on and on and on

I can’t run, too dangerous to open the door
I can’t break through, there’s nowhere to go anymore
I’ve got nothing to hold on to
To get me through living in the eye of the storm

-Eye of the storm

Trapt.

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