Finding The True Self

Burning Reflection (1/25/18)

Warning: The following passage will contain strong language, somewhat graphic descriptions, and suggestive themes. Viewer discretion is advised.

What is wrong with me?

    I don't know why I'm still trying. I should be taking a break instead of dragging my legs across the pavement! After Senior Project was done and over with, I thought I could finally get back into writing and drawing. For some reason, though, my imagination couldn't come through for me. I felt...bored of it like it had no matter anymore. It got to the point where I had to get help, so I got on the FurAffinity Forums and vented.

    I certainly didn't expect the support that I got, even going into a private conversation with someone! They suggested that I may have overexerted myself to the point of burnout because of Senior Project, which isn't too far-fetched. That project brought me close to a breakdown, and I hated every single second of the presentation. That's not even counting the fact that I didn't even do well on it and I made it out of my literature class with a seventy-four. That's borderline from C to D! I honestly would've considered quitting halfway through if it weren't for Xavier.

    Speaking of whom, I've found myself dealing with him more lately. You'd think the whole "Creator's Lounge" thing was just a one-off for him, but I guess not. I can hear his voice, whispering for me to calm down. I mostly ignore it and chalk it up to my subconscious mind trying to comfort me. I guess that's just how pathetic I am...

    Now I'm trying to get this new short story involving Funtime Freddy from Sister Location done. I only have a paragraph and my mind's locking up again. Why is this so difficult?! God, it's like an addiction that I can't kick! Whenever I'm bored, I have this crazy urge to try and write something- but now I can't even do that! Coupled with all the other life problems I have, it's complete hell!

I just...I just...

  
    I wake up to my head on cold wood, the chill making me shiver as I get up and look around. In place of my bedroom were tall shelves of books, spotlights shining down the isles from high above. I can't say I'm surprised since I try to organize myself most of the time- with varying degrees of success. It seems like I'm alone, but I know better. If I'm in my mind, then he is here too.

"You rang?"

Speak of the fucking devil.

    I couldn't hide the deep frown on my face as I looked at him. He was leaning against one of the bookcases, not even fazed by the look I was giving him. He just stared at me with that god-awful smirk of his. Oh, how I would love to punch him right in the muzzle and knock it clean off-

"But you won't.", he suddenly said.

"What?", I asked confusedly.

That smirk of his widened, "You said you wanted to punch me, but you won't."

I groaned internally, "Why do you keep mocking me?"

"Because it amuses me."

God, why do I even bother?

"Why not bother?"

"Stop pulling that shit!", I suddenly stand up before sighing, "Why am I even here? Last I checked, you were a one-off."

"Who said I was gonna be a one-off?", he raised an eyebrow, "You're the one who can't resist me."

I resist the urge to strangle him and take a breath, "Just tell me what you want."

The coon's smirk shortened a little, "I want to help you realize something."

I  instantly started walking away, "Thanks but no thanks. I'd rather not have to deal with my brain shitting on me like the rest of the world  does most of the time."