He is also the final proof that I have never been a real person, that my life has been nothing but a lie. I start to cry again and I must look deeply foolish, but the Doctor says nothing. He simply places his hands inside of his pockets and waits. Eternal patience of a Time Lord, I suppose.
"My whole life, it's all—I'm not real. I'm just a story." I know I am blubbering, but I can not stop. The Doctor doesn't ask me to. He simply stands there. In many ways, it is worse.
Just simply AMAZING. It paints the perfect, painful picture. Their clothing, their expressions, their breath in the air and their pain exposed.
no subject
He is also the final proof that I have never been a real person, that my life has been nothing but a lie. I start to cry again and I must look deeply foolish, but the Doctor says nothing. He simply places his hands inside of his pockets and waits. Eternal patience of a Time Lord, I suppose.
"My whole life, it's all—I'm not real. I'm just a story." I know I am blubbering, but I can not stop. The Doctor doesn't ask me to. He simply stands there. In many ways, it is worse.
Just simply AMAZING. It paints the perfect, painful picture. Their clothing, their expressions, their breath in the air and their pain exposed.
Bravo!
*loves*