#empath problems (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dragony) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2014-06-06 01:56 pm
dragony) wrote in maskormenacelogs2014-06-06 01:56 pm
take a look at all the pressure
who: Ruka, you saps
where: Heropa, here and there
when: 5/31 - 6/6, varying times
what: A selection of gratuitous slice-of-life scenarios as filtered through the life of someone who's never happy
warnings: ???
[ 1 • that high school in Heropa that everyone gets enrolled in but barely anybody attends on a regular basis, morning through afternoon ]
Weekdays are schooldays, but not for everyone. Those outside the proper age bracket, for one, and those with little desire to attend despite their inclusion, for a second. For Ruka, it's the second. As someone who grew up educated on the internet, followed by swinging from homeschooling to testing forward into a specialized university degree, high school literature and economics are hardly an appealing way to spend the muggy Florida afternoons. Heropa is a small town, and a small town means a smaller population, so there's only one high school within the town limits. It means, she knows, that she's not the only imPort enrolled here, when she musters up the energy to attend, but sometimes it feels like it. Maybe it's her spotty attendance or her unusual appearance that does it, or perhaps it's her uneasy discomfort with crowds and strangers, but no matter the day she attends, Ruka can't help but feel on edge. It's a challenge to not use her power, to not form a literal bubble around her in order to establish the boundaries of a metaphorical one. She doesn't trust any of them. She can't. But even if she won't register, it's too big of a risk to evade their every system, isn't it? Those aren't limits she's willing to risk her neck to test.
So from one class to another, she keeps to herself; volunteers no answers, asks no questions, and certainly doesn't try striking up conversation with her fellow students. Arrive, go through the motions, depart; so long as the effort seems to be there, she thinks, it'll be alright. But no matter the day, the pattern goes as usual: ignore the guys on the debate team in first period that spend at least five minutes every morning bandying about new theories about what happened to her face (if anything); glower at the girl next to her in calculus who thinks that just because she's sitting on Ruka's blind side that she won't notice someone trying to copy her work; skip gym class without the faintest pretense to instead commandeer some small table in the library and hide with publications of world atlases through the decades; get kicked out of U.S. History and sent to loiter in the hallway, as usual, for "detracting from the learning environment."
During lunch, sitting in some lesser-frequented area of the courtyard, she wonders if it's worth the effort to finish out the school year... that is, if she isn't at this point simply leaving for the day, too tired and having exhausted even the pretense of caring for her "permanent record."
[ 2 • city bench in the downtown (only) shopping district ]
She can't do everything by herself.
It's something she tells herself--tells anyone who listens--over and over, but perhaps today those words should be, she can't keep trying to do everything by herself. Because that's what keeps happening, isn't it? She assesses how she feels at a given time, determines what she needs to do and how much strength she'll need to do it, and finds herself short. She then determines who would be likely to help her with such minor tasks, and promptly throws the whole mental list away. That's still a cost to her, in the end; those who do favors are kind, or calculating, but regardless expect some prize in return, whether it be friendship or a favor, and the inability to provide either would simply breed resentment.
As for someone who already is her friend, she can't ask Karkat to do everything for her; he resents her enough already.
But the temperature is high today, and Ruka never remembers to account for how much more energy it takes to do the shopping with the sun on her back, when she never allows herself the embarrassment of clothing lighter than opaque cotton or sleeves shorter than the wrist.
She can't keep going on like this, she thinks to herself, and maybe this is heat stroke, and maybe she should just let herself pass out here, but what if someone steals her bags? That would make the whole endeavor even more pointless. So for now, maybe sitting in the shade, heels of her palms pressing against her mismatched eyes, maybe she'll be able to muster enough energy to at least get back to the house from here.
Maybe.
[ 3 • government housing district, dusk to pre-dawn ]
She wishes the buildings were taller. Or perhaps it's better to say, she wishes she lived in a proper city, with proper buildings of proper ambitious heights, and that she once again lived on one's peak. It's been a long time since she saw her childhood home, but a life so far from the ground and so close to the stars is a hard one to forget. Ruka still doesn't know the names of all the asterisms, their constellations, but the night sky patterns are mostly the same here as they were in the City, and as they were in Neo Domino City before that. Te difference lays, she knows, in her position on this globe, rather than the positions of the stars beyond it.
It's about midnight, and she can't sleep — but when it's one, two-thirty, four in the morning, sleep is just as difficult to find. It has been easier these past few weeks, but no solution is perfect. It's not fear of the dark or the unfamiliar surroundings that shake her, but the rumble and ache of a restless heart, a racing mind. Picking out stars seems more productive than looking for shapes in the spackle of her ceiling. Better still, to watch other imPorts make their way into or out of the residential neighborhood this late, to guess their reasons, their plans and motives... it's more productive than dwelling on her own.
It's not like they usually bother her, anyway.
[ 4 • wildcard; tagger's choice ]
[ Housemate in Residence 10 annoyed about someone making tea at two in the morning? Grocery shopper colliding into that idiot loitering in front of the pastas? Forced to sit next to this weirdo because it's the only open seat in the coffee parlour/tea house/restaurant? Door to door salesman? Whatever strikes your fancy, let's make it happen. ]
where: Heropa, here and there
when: 5/31 - 6/6, varying times
what: A selection of gratuitous slice-of-life scenarios as filtered through the life of someone who's never happy
warnings: ???
Weekdays are schooldays, but not for everyone. Those outside the proper age bracket, for one, and those with little desire to attend despite their inclusion, for a second. For Ruka, it's the second. As someone who grew up educated on the internet, followed by swinging from homeschooling to testing forward into a specialized university degree, high school literature and economics are hardly an appealing way to spend the muggy Florida afternoons. Heropa is a small town, and a small town means a smaller population, so there's only one high school within the town limits. It means, she knows, that she's not the only imPort enrolled here, when she musters up the energy to attend, but sometimes it feels like it. Maybe it's her spotty attendance or her unusual appearance that does it, or perhaps it's her uneasy discomfort with crowds and strangers, but no matter the day she attends, Ruka can't help but feel on edge. It's a challenge to not use her power, to not form a literal bubble around her in order to establish the boundaries of a metaphorical one. She doesn't trust any of them. She can't. But even if she won't register, it's too big of a risk to evade their every system, isn't it? Those aren't limits she's willing to risk her neck to test.
So from one class to another, she keeps to herself; volunteers no answers, asks no questions, and certainly doesn't try striking up conversation with her fellow students. Arrive, go through the motions, depart; so long as the effort seems to be there, she thinks, it'll be alright. But no matter the day, the pattern goes as usual: ignore the guys on the debate team in first period that spend at least five minutes every morning bandying about new theories about what happened to her face (if anything); glower at the girl next to her in calculus who thinks that just because she's sitting on Ruka's blind side that she won't notice someone trying to copy her work; skip gym class without the faintest pretense to instead commandeer some small table in the library and hide with publications of world atlases through the decades; get kicked out of U.S. History and sent to loiter in the hallway, as usual, for "detracting from the learning environment."
During lunch, sitting in some lesser-frequented area of the courtyard, she wonders if it's worth the effort to finish out the school year... that is, if she isn't at this point simply leaving for the day, too tired and having exhausted even the pretense of caring for her "permanent record."
She can't do everything by herself.
It's something she tells herself--tells anyone who listens--over and over, but perhaps today those words should be, she can't keep trying to do everything by herself. Because that's what keeps happening, isn't it? She assesses how she feels at a given time, determines what she needs to do and how much strength she'll need to do it, and finds herself short. She then determines who would be likely to help her with such minor tasks, and promptly throws the whole mental list away. That's still a cost to her, in the end; those who do favors are kind, or calculating, but regardless expect some prize in return, whether it be friendship or a favor, and the inability to provide either would simply breed resentment.
As for someone who already is her friend, she can't ask Karkat to do everything for her; he resents her enough already.
But the temperature is high today, and Ruka never remembers to account for how much more energy it takes to do the shopping with the sun on her back, when she never allows herself the embarrassment of clothing lighter than opaque cotton or sleeves shorter than the wrist.
She can't keep going on like this, she thinks to herself, and maybe this is heat stroke, and maybe she should just let herself pass out here, but what if someone steals her bags? That would make the whole endeavor even more pointless. So for now, maybe sitting in the shade, heels of her palms pressing against her mismatched eyes, maybe she'll be able to muster enough energy to at least get back to the house from here.
Maybe.
She wishes the buildings were taller. Or perhaps it's better to say, she wishes she lived in a proper city, with proper buildings of proper ambitious heights, and that she once again lived on one's peak. It's been a long time since she saw her childhood home, but a life so far from the ground and so close to the stars is a hard one to forget. Ruka still doesn't know the names of all the asterisms, their constellations, but the night sky patterns are mostly the same here as they were in the City, and as they were in Neo Domino City before that. Te difference lays, she knows, in her position on this globe, rather than the positions of the stars beyond it.
It's about midnight, and she can't sleep — but when it's one, two-thirty, four in the morning, sleep is just as difficult to find. It has been easier these past few weeks, but no solution is perfect. It's not fear of the dark or the unfamiliar surroundings that shake her, but the rumble and ache of a restless heart, a racing mind. Picking out stars seems more productive than looking for shapes in the spackle of her ceiling. Better still, to watch other imPorts make their way into or out of the residential neighborhood this late, to guess their reasons, their plans and motives... it's more productive than dwelling on her own.
It's not like they usually bother her, anyway.
[ Housemate in Residence 10 annoyed about someone making tea at two in the morning? Grocery shopper colliding into that idiot loitering in front of the pastas? Forced to sit next to this weirdo because it's the only open seat in the coffee parlour/tea house/restaurant? Door to door salesman? Whatever strikes your fancy, let's make it happen. ]
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