He tells her that hating herself forever is the only thing that could make her understand. She had spent so much time hating herself that he couldn't fathom. And so much of it was Kasumi's damn fault.
The Persona lashes out, beating her around like a ragdoll. When she's peeling herself off the ground her nose is bleeding. Maruki asks her if she has any empathy. Telling her that she has no idea to know that the person she cares the most about is dead because of her.
It's funny almost. She can't help but laugh. "I killed her myself. I think I have some idea, asshole. And I still don't have any empathy for you for doing what you did."
He says she clings to her pain like it's a lifeline, but he's not talking about her. He's talking about some malignant salvation. "Oh and forgetting everything and putting your head in the sand is healing? You're putting a bandaid on a bullet wound and calling it all better, ignoring anything's wrong as you bleed out with a picture perfect smile. Cuz that's the point isn't it? If you look happy enough who can tell there's a world of rot beneath?" It's a farce. A projection of perfection. She understands that damn well too.
She stands up on wobbly knees, laughing like it's some kind of joke. Devoid of punchline, but it's funny anyway. "Maybe I am, but you aren't some magnanimous savior, finding the quickest shortcut to a plastic happiness and calling it salvation...you're no better than some festering infection."
Silence hangs in the air for several moments. "Are we done here? If you're not gonna help with her actualization you're no use to me, and I have no need to hear your self aggrandizing prattling."
no subject
The Persona lashes out, beating her around like a ragdoll. When she's peeling herself off the ground her nose is bleeding. Maruki asks her if she has any empathy. Telling her that she has no idea to know that the person she cares the most about is dead because of her.
It's funny almost. She can't help but laugh. "I killed her myself. I think I have some idea, asshole. And I still don't have any empathy for you for doing what you did."
He says she clings to her pain like it's a lifeline, but he's not talking about her. He's talking about some malignant salvation. "Oh and forgetting everything and putting your head in the sand is healing? You're putting a bandaid on a bullet wound and calling it all better, ignoring anything's wrong as you bleed out with a picture perfect smile. Cuz that's the point isn't it? If you look happy enough who can tell there's a world of rot beneath?" It's a farce. A projection of perfection. She understands that damn well too.
She stands up on wobbly knees, laughing like it's some kind of joke. Devoid of punchline, but it's funny anyway. "Maybe I am, but you aren't some magnanimous savior, finding the quickest shortcut to a plastic happiness and calling it salvation...you're no better than some festering infection."
Silence hangs in the air for several moments. "Are we done here? If you're not gonna help with her actualization you're no use to me, and I have no need to hear your self aggrandizing prattling."