[Tate repeats a little louder, almost slipping into a frustrated tone. It's not that he doesn't want to figure out the flashes of color in his head but every time he tries to there's something that blends everything together in his head and makes him a bit sick from trying to keep it all separate and apart. He clutches his hands into his hair, grimacing with his eyes closed and his body hunching forward. He heaves a breath and his fork falls from his plate, off his lap and onto the floor.]
Everything is - any time I try to think, it hurts. Nothing makes sense when I try to talk about it. It's in my head and I can't fucking get it out!
no subject
[Tate repeats a little louder, almost slipping into a frustrated tone. It's not that he doesn't want to figure out the flashes of color in his head but every time he tries to there's something that blends everything together in his head and makes him a bit sick from trying to keep it all separate and apart. He clutches his hands into his hair, grimacing with his eyes closed and his body hunching forward. He heaves a breath and his fork falls from his plate, off his lap and onto the floor.]
Everything is - any time I try to think, it hurts. Nothing makes sense when I try to talk about it. It's in my head and I can't fucking get it out!