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Darkness. All consuming, terrifying, darkness. Or something like it.
Abstracting wasn't much like what Jax imagined, it wasn't as cold or grueling. It almost, almost, felt like comfort. A hug he had yearned for yet, pushed away time and time again.
It felt like being a little kid again, crying loudly for comfort. Even if you knew there was no one to open your door, to wrap you in their arms and tell you it would all be okay.
It was like imagining someone coming to comfort you, instead of actually getting comforted—Almost soothing.
It felt like finally getting too much off your chest, and feeling relieved. But then you remember that you said too much, you felt the gulit, regret.
Jax was no stranger to that feeling, in fact that was all he had known for a while. It was that feeling that turned him into what he was, that landed him here. It made him cold, and angry. He hated it.
So maybe, abstraction actually wasn't that comforting. When you think about it, it doesn't seem even the slightest bit. 'Losing your mind and turning into a big blob thing' doesn't seem all that fun.
Yet, some sick part of him took comfort in the destruction of himself. It was some odd escape. And escape is what he wanted, right? At least what he convinced himself he wanted.
So why was this so.. bitter? Why didn't he want to leave? Why did some part of him, deep down, feel the need to stay? To tether himself to the living? And to attach himself to the people he swore not to get attached too?
The questions, and realizations that came along with them burned. The idea he truly did care about the people he promised himself not too, stung.
Wanting to stay in the place he forced himself to want to leave, stung.
Wishing that someone would come save him, stung. Because he knew that no one was coming, no one ever came. No one ever would. Why? Because he was some stupid as[%$!#]e that pushed everyone that tried, away.
He didn't deserve some saving grace, because what had he done to earn one? Push everyone around and be a prick?
Either way, he would rather rot in hell itself then admit that he really didn't want this. That he wanted to live, that he too had dreams. Even though they were some stupid brain scans or whatever, he still wanted to live.
As much as he tried to convince himself he did, Jax didn't want to go. He never did.
But it was all too late for regrets right? Because it was too late, he did this to himself.