What was the point of any of this? Fighting for a world that no longer existed. Where did everyone else get their will to fight? Energon could be found elsewhere. Though it was a gamble wouldn't it be better to leave than stay here? One after another everyone was dying. Sparks fizzling out left and right and no one cared. What were they fighting for? Did they fight for revenge? A world long gone? Just for survival?
Megatron fought only to destroy Optimus now it seemed. He was obsessed with it. But when that was over what did he plan to do next? Destroy the natives? Take over? The energon here would deplete eventually and then we'd have to leave. Then the next planets would deplete and then the next. Wherever we went it would all be used up. Synthetic energon was an option, but even if we were to survive this time we'd die the next time. With no way to repopulate we'd die off one way or another. One accident and there goes another one. One less here, one less there. Soon enough there would be no one left.
That was the option if this war ever did end. Right now it was just the chant of one more fight. One more battle. Just survive this one and everything will be alright. The chant that demanded survival over everything else. But even that was starting to lose its power and fade. Hope was a hard thing to come by when things were stable. Now it was nonexistent.
The pull to give up grew stronger by the day. I was a coward after all. Why not just give up? Getting up to face the same problems, the same demons day after day despite how exhausted they made me the day before is the closest I will ever get to bravery and I will be the only one who knows about it. Everything keeps getting taken away. Everyone I knew before and everything I had ever hoped for is gone. So why not just lay down and quit.
Maybe the Autobots would let me just lay down and rot in their brig in peace. Primus knows that it won't happen out here. I'd be killed in the most painful way possible I'm sure. Just for wanting to rest. Just for being sick of everything. So sick that I found myself caring less and less. Maybe one day it would be to much. Maybe one day my front would fall. The mask would break and everyone would see just how weak I really am.
They will mock me. They will laugh not only behind my back but to my face. They will call me weak and a coward. And I can see myself not caring. Just dragging myself along until I find myself alone again and break. Finding that I can feel again miraculously, but it's nothing good. All it is, is more pain. More sorrow. Then I'd go back to apathy when I was all cried out. An endless cycle for all to see.
An endless cycle that was just behind the mask. What is better? Drowning under all of the agony or being so starved of emotion that I find myself too weak to do anything? Where everything feels like a chore? I find that when I drown I wish for nothing more than to just not feel it and when I get it I wonder why I ever wanted it in the first place.
The stars above that I loved so much no matter what planet I was on just give me a bitter sense of nostalgia. Of a time gone by. Where others stood by my side and I theirs. Of a time that held hope and even some happiness in such a difficult time. I couldn't take all of this fighting anymore. The commands to just keep fighting and fighting and fighting with no reason as to why.
My life was lonely. Worthless to everyone. What exactly did I have to do to be worth something in their eyes? Why was I always left behind?
It was starting to rain… Funny. They say that rain, falling water was a universal symbol of sadness. But maybe it's just misunderstood. Without rain nothing on the organic planets could grow. So why was it the bad guy? Rain lets everyone have a chance to be weak. Could anyone tell the difference between a raindrop and a tear? Rain washes away everything to start fresh. However it never rained for me in that sense. Yet if it did would I be washed away too?
Maybe rain was my only real friend. Rain always had a rhythm all its own. A soothing lullaby or an upbeat song. It was not always sad no matter how much people loved to connect the two. Rain didn't cause rust. It was when it was paired with oxygen, but no one blamed the oxygen. I could have laughed if I wasn't so emotionally attached to the concept.
Yes… Rain and I were kindred spirits so to speak. They run from us and hide. They call us cold and unforgiving. We didn't have a place to call home… Rain and I.
Maybe… Maybe I could just rest here for a moment.
Just for a little while.
Just until it stopped hurting.