[Friends are hard to come by in Diego's life. And as much as he may bolster and yell and react so much more like an animal backed into a corner when anything goes sideways, there's a not small part of him that worries. It's an anxiety-driven thing when the Shadow of the werewolf's friend sends a text.]
I know you hate me and I guess that's justified. But I kind of feel like I should explain. Or that I shouldn't, and I should you leave you alone, because that's obviously what you'll want. But I just want you to understand some things, okay?
[There's something strange about the texts. They look fine, nothing about the screen or the typeface looks wrong, but it probably almost sounds like someone took Diego's phone and is speaking for him. That wouldn't be a completely wrong thought to have, either.
Still.
The Shadow can't wait to let him give him permission to continue or not-- he needs him to understand. It's a gripping, desperate need to be understood, to be recognized, to be enough.]
Look, I know I'm not good at this. I suck at it, really, really bad. But you are literally probably only the third friend I've ever had in my life and I don't know what I'm doing. And I hate admitting that, but it's true.
I want to be liked, but I'm not a likable person, I don't know how to be one, and honestly at this point I don't care enough to try. I just want the incredibly small amount of people in my inner circle to like me. And I am so paranoid, it probably will be my undoing. But I can't help it, I have been preconditioned to assume I will never be good enough, in whatever I decide to do. It was coded into everything I was ever taught by my father and I don't think I can let go of it, I really don't. It's who I am.
I guess my point is-- I don't know how to not be a neurotically insecure dick, and I think you and I are cut enough from the same cloth that hopefully you can understand the way the past influences the present in a really deep way sometimes, and some things from then just can't be let go of... for awhile, or sometimes ever.
[None of this is going to help. He's sure of it. If anything, he's just going to make it worse. He's good at that, right? Might be the only thing he's ever been good at, really.]
Shadow!Diego} texts » 10/25
I know you hate me and I guess that's justified.
But I kind of feel like I should explain.
Or that I shouldn't, and I should you leave you alone, because that's obviously what you'll want.
But I just want you to understand some things, okay?
[There's something strange about the texts. They look fine, nothing about the screen or the typeface looks wrong, but it probably almost sounds like someone took Diego's phone and is speaking for him. That wouldn't be a completely wrong thought to have, either.
Still.
The Shadow can't wait to let him give him permission to continue or not-- he needs him to understand. It's a gripping, desperate need to be understood, to be recognized, to be enough.]
Look, I know I'm not good at this. I suck at it, really, really bad. But you are literally probably only the third friend I've ever had in my life and I don't know what I'm doing. And I hate admitting that, but it's true.
I want to be liked, but I'm not a likable person, I don't know how to be one, and honestly at this point I don't care enough to try. I just want the incredibly small amount of people in my inner circle to like me. And I am so paranoid, it probably will be my undoing. But I can't help it, I have been preconditioned to assume I will never be good enough, in whatever I decide to do. It was coded into everything I was ever taught by my father and I don't think I can let go of it, I really don't. It's who I am.
I guess my point is-- I don't know how to not be a neurotically insecure dick, and I think you and I are cut enough from the same cloth that hopefully you can understand the way the past influences the present in a really deep way sometimes, and some things from then just can't be let go of... for awhile, or sometimes ever.
[None of this is going to help. He's sure of it. If anything, he's just going to make it worse. He's good at that, right? Might be the only thing he's ever been good at, really.]