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Tired

"Mm..." He could relate to some extent. "Bein' busy n' sleepin'. Easiest ways," Dawson said with a nod. "If you don' mind my pryin' first, what caused the split t'begin with? Y'all seemed pretty cool with one another."

Tired

"I miss books," Jordan said with a sigh. "I really miss books."

"There was a stretch of time where we were all stressed," he said, "and things just started ... falling apart. Too many misunderstandings. I thought I wasn't welcome any more, and I left, and it turns out that that's one of the things Harrison can't forgive." He was glossing over a lot of it, leaving out the little uglinesses. But the passage of time had not yet made it something he could talk about easily. He shook his head a little. "Guess I'm mostly trying to figure out how to move forward. How do you stop feeling what you feel?"

how to deal

Chance made a snorting sound in the back of his throat that was almost a laugh.

"Who on earth told you that?" he asked, and there was, for the first time, a faint tremor of amusement to the words as he lifted a hand to readjust the cap on his head. "People do stuff for a reason, you know. Sort of. How did we even get on this topic, anyway?"

Tired

Dawson hummed, mostly to himself. It was a habit he was starting to pick up more and more, and it reminded him of his mom and how she used to talk and sing to herself when she was alone in the kitchen. It abated the terrible silence the island made him face.

"Okay," he said at length. "Let's ferget the other two fer a sec. You ever take a step back n' deal with the emotions?" Jordan had mentioned keeping himself busy after all. "Like by yerself, or talk to someone about it?"

Kim sighed weakly. This was where things got hard. Before she answered she took a sip from the coconut, making a note to bring him one later. "I don't like that I somehow drive people away from me. I can't put a finger on what does it so I am not sure how to fix it."

She pulled her knees to her chest, ankles still crossed. Thank goodness she was flexible. It made poses like this easy. "Terry doesn't seem to mind and that is a god send. I mean he at least doesn't tell me to stop. I can be a bit... much I guess. Lately though even Chinthliss isn't talking to me. He got tired and just went silent.." She looked down at her belt, which was her weapon in unsummoned form.

The more she thought the more she felt like crying. "I.. I actually enjoy being me, but what good is it if I drive everyone away. I get hyper, I don't think a lot, but.. I have fun. Then I get yelled at, I am told I put everyone around me in danger. No one wants to be near me... so.. so there is no way I can stay me, and still be.. wanted."

Ugh, the words hurt even as she said it. She had to though. "Melvin said.. that I want him to fix me. I don't though, how can someone fix me? I am not even sure why I am broken. I just.. wanted to know if he could ever see me as a friend. I have so few.. then.." It hurt so bad. "Then what he said.. that I am not friend material if I put all I am near in danger. It's true... I know it, but... " She waved her hand. So many words. Now that someone was listening it was like a flood gate had opened.

Tired

Dawson shrugged back. "I'm jus' a nosy nancy, so I ain' gonna force ya t'say nothin'," he said as he tugged at the fishing line, hoping some movement might attract the fish. It was a stupidly naive thought, but going through the motions helped. "But I'd be real about it, Jordan. With yerself, someone else, don' matter. 'Cuz keepin' it all bottled up ain' good fer no-one, least've all yerself."

Hang in there

Dawson sat against the wall and let his head loll back, taking a deep breath and exhaling as he mulled it all over.

"People aren't things you break n' repair," he began. "When I say that, I mean, like...A knife gets dull. You sharpen it up or replace it or whatever. Person doesn' quite work that way 'cause we're not objects, right? There's not always manual about how we go about doin' things. F'there was, life wouldn' be so difficult."

It was funny, hearing himself say that. Dawson used to think it might have been nice, being the right tool for the job and nothing more. In some way, he still did; he just tried to be more aware of when his thoughts strayed that way to avoid going too deep. It was a technique he was starting to use mainly due to the things he had read prior to trying out these casual one on ones.

"So. Bein' hyper, not thinkin' too much...They're problems, sure, but tha' doesn' make you a broken person. It just makes you a person. Erryone's got problems a'some sort." With a self-deprecating smile, Dawson reknit his fingers together. "Like me, I worry too much. I can get real anxious n' worked up, baby people, make myself think I gotta be The One To Do Something. I think about other people too much n' ferget t'think about myself. You got the opposite problem, but it's still caused by the same sorta thing.

"I know ya said you don' think a lot, but...When yer havin' fun, are ya thinkin' about how it might affect other people? Or s'it only about yerself in that moment?" He phrased it as a prompt, probing rather than judging. "How d'ya have fun normally?"

how to deal


Chance made a sound of amusement in the back of his throat in spite of himself.

"I dunno what you're talking about, I'm as innocent as a rose."