меня обманули!

[S-mile]

Читаю фик и кажется мне, что автор написал аушку про суицидального Локи подростка с хронической депрессией только для того, чтоб поделиться своими размышлениями на тему жизни и смерти))

если кто-то всё же решит читать эту длинную цитату, Selkie and Puca - это лошади

“What did you want to get away from?” Thor asks.

“Life,” Loki shrugs. “Shakespeare must have been in the same boat: it's exactly like Hamlet's soliloquy. I'm going to die no matter what, so why wait? Why sit here and ache for seventy years just to delay death. Why not skip the hurting and get it over with?”

“What hurts?”

“Everything,” Loki says, huffing a bitter laugh. “Knowing we're all going to die. Getting sick. Getting older. Watching everyone I love get older. Being reduced to a social security number and health insurance number and student id number and being shuffled through life like a cow through a slaughterhouse. Being tiny and pointless. Watching everything beautiful die and rot. Watching Selkie and Puca running around and knowing they'll only get to live another dozen years if they're lucky. Looking at the stars.”

“What about the stars?” Thor asks.

“They're proof that I'm nothing. They're so huge, Thor. I'm as tiny to them as they are to me. I'll never reach them. Nothing I do will affect them. I'm stuck on this little planet running around like a hamster on a wheel. I'm not going to change the world, and, even if I did, it wouldn't matter. We'd all keep getting older and dying and treating each other like shit and the universe still wouldn't notice. It's always the same.”

Loki starts choking up and stops to breathe and swallow thickly.

“And even the good things - everything kind and soft and beautiful - only break my heart, because I know I can't save them. Everything is as doomed as I am,” Loki finishes.

И когда автор решил, что юный аушный Тор вполне может быть голосом разума, всё стало окончательно ясно с фиком)))

Но я всё же оставлю это здесь.

“I think... if you made a to-do list for everyone, the first thing on it would be birth, and the last thing on it would be death, and both of those things would already be checked off. It's done. Mom did it for us. She made us and unmade us in the same moment. It's not our responsibility. We don't have to think about it. Our job is to fill in the middle of the list...”

Thor goes quiet and rolls his lips between his teeth for a minute. Loki stares at Thor's eyes, dark blue in the grey light of winter, and thinks, somewhat absurdly, of Elizabeth Taylor.

“The stars do tell us we're tiny,” Thor admits. “But that means our problems are tiny, too. And the universe doesn't care, but that just means we can never really fuck anything up. If we could annihilate this whole planet and the rest of the universe wouldn't even blink, then it's definitely not going to notice if we fuck up our ACTs, or flunk out of college, or get a speeding ticket, or fart in the library...”

Loki laughs and butts his head against Thor's.

“And Selkie and Puca...” Thor starts, but his throat tightens up and he has to swallow and take a slow breath before he goes any further. “We're going to lose the ones we love. And it's going to hurt like hell, but that's because we loved them like hell. And that's just what it costs. And it's not fair... but no one ever said it was going to be fair. And the fact that the universe doesn't give a shit means that it's up to us to give a shit. And to give things meaning. And to be fair. And kind. And I'd miss you, goddammit. I'd notice if you were gone, Loki – I'd never do anything else.”

Loki closes his eyes and ducks his head and Thor puts his right hand over Loki's left one.


“If we both live long lives... into our sixties at least, but preferably into our eighties... then I'll have loved you for longer than I could ever miss you,” Thor murmurs. “And that's the game: wring as much joy as you can from a neutral, indifferent universe. Rob it blind.”

“You're not as dumb as you look,” Loki says after a minute. “Have you been reading Camus?” and Thor pinches the back of his arm.