how do I mourn what never lived

Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words

Her gaze fell to the bandaged hand. Blinking slowly, she wanted to shrug off the point, because how could a simple favor be evidence of anything? Anyone would do that. Except... Except Elizabeth was telling her not everyone would. It was a lot to wrap her mind around. Something inside her fought against the notion of being normal, that her situation was not beyond salvation. It felt... raw, in a way. Like she had worried on a loose tooth for so long that the absence of it grew uncomfortable. Like the tongue kept returning to prod tender flesh, so her mind kept prodding, searching for sore spots and reasons for objection.

None came. What followed instead was a dull ache in her chest, a stinging in her eyes bringing them off, out the window and around the cafe until she managed to compose herself. Maea didn't even know if it was relief or disappointment for finding the corner she'd painted herself into wasn't without exits after all.
Fidgeting with the faded burn scars on her hands, Maea bit at her lips.
"How... do I learn that? Trusting myself? I've thought I was doing good things in the very recent past. But they blew up in my face, putting others at risk. Hurting worse when I wanted to help. Even if I'm not a monster, I don't feel as though I've done anything good either..." Confidently incorrect, was the term. The best intentions didn't matter if her actions did harm.

Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts

base inspired by Odd <3