"You Only Hurt the One You Love" Meme!
Alright, everyone, it’s nearly Valentine’s Day! You know what this means? It’s the perfect opportunity to show our love for our favorite Winchester by doing what we do best - hurting him, maiming him, making him sick, putting him through emotional torture. Y’know, the usual.
Welcome to ohsam’s “You Only Hurt the One You Love” meme!
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Welcome to ohsam’s “You Only Hurt the One You Love” meme!
( Read more... )
I can feel myself going deeper and deeper inside my head. The long and dim corridors disappear beyond walls of fog, closing in on me.
My awareness slips in and out of my control. There is movement around me. I can only assume that I’m going forward in a way, yet unaware of my destination.
Things feel strange; unfamiliar.
My head feels heavy and light at the same time. It knows no boundaries, but the echo of my voice lost in an ocean of thoughts.
Whose voice is it that I hear?
Perhaps it’s mine. I’m not sure.
Then, comprehension sinks into me and I realize I’ve made it to the kitchen. For a flash of an instant, my eyes focus on the cupboards, the sink, the fridge… I know I’m in the bunker.
Why don’t I feel it?
I actually can’t feel much aside from a vast universe of infiniteness. I forget the corporeal feeling of being made of flesh and bones. I’m only conscious that, in this instant, I get the feeling of being.
Being what?
Concrete tactical sensations are lost to me, once more.
I know that I am.
I just can’t feel it.
The next thing I know is that I am sitting down. I’m still in the kitchen.
Things still don’t make sense.
Two massive palms made out of skin are staring back at me. I stare at them too. Five digits each; long and bony and calloused.
I know that these are my hands. But I don’t feel like they are.
I don’t recall the amount of time I spend staring into nothing. My eyes are opened, albeit unseeing.
Shapes and colors and smells drift in and out of my reach, like crashing waves on a shore; swallowing themselves whole before gliding gracefully up the sand line and back into the deepest abysses of the sea.
It’s a strange feeling. I’m not in any kind of pain or anything.
There is this numbness about me that makes me feel like I’m blending into nothingness and immeasurableness at the same time.
I feel infinite, but trapped; a star in an endless night sky, swallowed by a black hole.
I see the body sitting on that chair, but I’m not sure whose it is.
This torso and those legs feel foreign to me.
That’s when I feel something.
My eyes travel toward the warm sensation and fall upon a hand.
It all comes back to me in a rush. I try to absorb it all without choking on it. I know that I know that hand. I’d recognize it anywhere by the feeling of it.
It’s steady and calm and radiates nuclear comfort. I already feel intoxicated.
The frontiers of my body reestablish into their formal disposition. My head clears as the thick fog that had me blinded dissipates to let the light shine in.
I’m sitting in the kitchen, in the bunker, and Dean has his hand on my shoulder. His concerned greens are the last beacon I needed to guide me home. His touch makes me feel real; grounded.
“You feeling okay?” he asks in that inquiring tone he takes when he knows something’s up with me. He always does.
Words swarm into sentences that push themselves to get past my tongue.
I nod.
“Yeah… I’m alright, now.”
I see it in his eyes that he knows.
I couldn’t explain it to him, but it doesn’t matter because he is here.
And when I get lost like that, he’s the only one I need to find my way back.
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