[ if anyone asks her, emotions are useless and she doesn't feel anything. everyone should be turning it off. does wonders for your livelihood, and your haircut if you're elena gilbert.
she's utmost convincing on her best days. time has passed since she was at her most convincing when it came to bargaining with herself, but that hardly matters now. does it? and if an emotion threatens to slip through the cracks and betrays the otherwise impenetrable demeanor, elena pretends not to notice, and she keeps going.
(jeremy is dead. the thought comes to her, in idle moments where thoughts stray away from her. betray her until she sinks into the memory. she thinks of it in a detached manner, like she's thinking of someone else's brother, someone else's life. it might as well be. she doesn't feel anything about it.)
she stomps on the grief, cuts out the parts of herself that were weathering her down, and suddenly she feels invincible and amazing and unmoved by everything and nothing at all. (she'll remember to send damon a thank you card, unless she remembers to forget.) and away from queen caroline and the brothers that loved her too much or not enough, reflections of an image that doesn't always belong to her, elena can do whatever she wants. and what she wants isn't found in blood bags and the pathetic substitute of a craving found in bunnies and deers.
elena wants something warmer. if it comes attached to men victimizing young girls, all the better. she's doing the world a favor.
a finger is loosely curled over a strand of her hair, and she turns at rebekah's comment. ] Good. I was starting to get bored. [ weren't you, rebekah? ]
no subject
she's utmost convincing on her best days. time has passed since she was at her most convincing when it came to bargaining with herself, but that hardly matters now. does it? and if an emotion threatens to slip through the cracks and betrays the otherwise impenetrable demeanor, elena pretends not to notice, and she keeps going.
(jeremy is dead. the thought comes to her, in idle moments where thoughts stray away from her. betray her until she sinks into the memory. she thinks of it in a detached manner, like she's thinking of someone else's brother, someone else's life. it might as well be. she doesn't feel anything about it.)
she stomps on the grief, cuts out the parts of herself that were weathering her down, and suddenly she feels invincible and amazing and unmoved by everything and nothing at all. (she'll remember to send damon a thank you card, unless she remembers to forget.) and away from queen caroline and the brothers that loved her too much or not enough, reflections of an image that doesn't always belong to her, elena can do whatever she wants. and what she wants isn't found in blood bags and the pathetic substitute of a craving found in bunnies and deers.
elena wants something warmer. if it comes attached to men victimizing young girls, all the better. she's doing the world a favor.
a finger is loosely curled over a strand of her hair, and she turns at rebekah's comment. ] Good. I was starting to get bored. [ weren't you, rebekah? ]