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Published:
2024-09-23
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427
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1/1
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Final Journal Entry, Journal #3

Summary:

Ford misses his muse, and Ford says goodbye.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

I’d like to believe this is your doing.

 

I wish I could lie,

 

Say that you had broken my psyche,

 

That this monster that I am was sculpted with your tools.

 

I wish I had an excuse,

 

That it was your hands in my brain,

 

Cutting and twisting together my neurons like a child with ribbons.

 

I am the luckiest man alive.

 

Every person I have hurt,

 

That I could only dream of forgiveness from,

 

Has somehow found it in their heart to give it.

 

I have found my belonging,

 

Have found my way back to people who care,

 

Who love me without hesitance,

 

Without need.

 

I have everything anyone could ever yearn for.

 

And yet.

 

I still ache, I still want, I still reach for more.

 

I still pause at moments,

 

When your voice coats my thoughts,

 

And it is a soothing presence.

 

Why do I want back someone who destroyed me?

 

Why do I want back someone who let me carve the path to the destruction of so many,

 

And never said a word of regret?

 

I am not a good man.

 

I am selfish,

 

And egotistical,

 

And arrogant.

 

But I am smart.

 

And to crave the companionship of another like me,

 

Is the stupidest thing any one person could do.

 

I like to think my muse is dead,

 

That the god I knew died when you came to be.

 

But you aren’t dead. You never could be.

 

You were never a separate entity.

 

Just another selfish,

 

Egotistical,

 

Arrogant creature,

 

Clawing at those who loved you for a leg up.

 

My muse,

 

Please let this be the last time either of us think of that name.

 

Please let this be the last time I put you to rest,

 

The last time I yearn to hear your voice,

 

The last time my frayed neurons reach towards yours.

 

If you can’t allow that,

 

I beg that you never heed my call,

 

Never let your thoughts flicker against mine,

 

Never follow the path that leads to our mutual destruction.

 

There is a part of me that hopes you get better.

 

A part that wishes that could be by my side.

 

It scares me, that if it were just me I had to think about,

 

I might facilitate a way to make it happen.

 

But I know I don’t deserve your cruelty,

 

And I know better that my family doesn’t either.

 

If you improve,

 

It will be far from my walls,

 

Far from my mind.

 

And a larger part than any of me hopes,

 

That I never see it.

Notes:

Sorry if this is shit I’m not a poet lmao

I think there’s something to be said about how losing the kind of connection Ford felt with Bill would be crushing, despite the abuse Ford went through. Like I think that feeling of belonging and understanding has alluded Ford all his life and I don’t think even now it would be easy to let go of.

Ford was irreparably hurt by Bill, and he knows that, and he knows that Bill is not good for him, and that he can’t improve himself if Bill is there, but I think there’s still sometimes that ache to be understood as thoroughly as they understood each other.

And I think when you feel such a deep connection to someone, no matter how much they hurt you, it’s difficult to want them to suffer. Especially when you feel like you’re so similar.

Anyways, I like to believe Ford (at least tried) to give himself some closure at some point, and I think this is a very Ford way to do it.