( another double barbed manifestation of luck, perhaps. clarke isn't certain whether to feel envious of the added layer of dissociation from the overwhelming swell of emotions of the nest that threatened to burst at the seams or pity — because what was life without feeling? she can't quite imagine existing without the various vivid passions that colored her every move, swept her up high enough to laugh or dragged down to new depths of despair on the daily. )

That sounds —

( lonely. sad. )

...I guess that might make it easier for you. To adjust here. ( it's only been three weeks, clarke can still vividly recall waking up and feeling ripped open and vulnerable, struggling to distance herself from the sharp tug in her rib cage that threatened to pull her into the thoughts of others and leave her there, wrapped up in the wants and desires of others. all her fear and confusion amplified, mirrored in everyone around her. it's easier now, with methods taught to block out others. but that buffer — she imagines it would have been nice.

under her breath and rueful: ) You might not feel like you're losing your mind completely.