GOT POSTCARDS FROM MY FORMER SELVES ; open, bottling thoughts

[color=#b14767] ❁  ❁  ❁

Margaery did not feel the need to announce her presence. Instead, she merely selected a bottle from the vast array that was offered to her, grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, and took a seat a good distance away from Suiteheart. For a while, she remained completely still, gray eyes trained contemplatively at the blank page that rested at her paws. There were so many things that she could write and toss into the waves... so many thoughts that had been troubling her to no end. Where did she begin?

'I don't want to become a monster but I believe I'm too late. I'm not strong enough to fight anymore.'

Off to a great start she supposed. The chocolate point couldn't hep but wonder what Suiteheart had written down. Probably something about Margaery not being good enough or messing up or- stop. The voice in her head was cool and collected and succeeded immediately in dragging her back to reality. Why had she let herself even think those things? She knew there was the potential of her wife hating her... but she'd never say that... would she?

'I wish Suiteheart and I weren't fighting. I wish she'd understand how I feel. I wish she'd realize that I'm not good. I wish she'd realize that I'm just some terrible liar. I hate to say it, but I halfway want her to give up on me.'

That one hurt to write out. Soon enough, tears had collected in the corners of her eyes and Margaery, unable to write another thing despite the many tumultuous thoughts circulating in her head, shoved the paper into the bottle. She gave it one fleeting, hateful glare before taking the thing and throwing it as hard as she could, ensuring that no tide would bring it back to shore where it could be read.

Why can't things be easy? Why does everything have to hurt so much?

[color=#b14767]"I need some wine."