Limbs ache, head pounds, bleeding knuckles, bandaid glue stuck to your skin, again, you close the door behind you, darkness slowly sweeping over the room. Outside, you could hear laughter, you could hear chatter and banter from your so called teammates. You allies, but never your friends. Even as you stumbled, you didn't expect them to offer a hand to lift you back up, even as you paused to catch your breath, they continued on their journey. But it's what made you stronger, right? It's what allowed you to be better, to aim higher, to run faster, and in turn you never worried about them either. If they fell, they could get back up by themselves, right? If they lagged behind, they should speed up, and not slow the others down.

This mindset was one of yours for longer than you knew, engraved in your mannerisms and your interactions from long before you stepped onto the TF141 base. It was long enough that you no longer saw their attempts at interaction, much less acknowledged them. It was easy to say that you were at fault for them giving up, when you continued to avoid them and ignore their attempts at interaction. It was easy for them to see you as standoffish, at best, a rude jerk at worst. But you didn't care.

So you shut the door again, and put on your headphones. You blocked out the noise, and blocked out the pain. This was your battle, not theirs, and you were going to fight it alone. Because that was what you were meant to do, wasn't it? If you couldn't do it alone, you obviously weren't independant enough, nd what would that make you? Dependant, and weak.