[ clarisse wants chris to be happy more than anything. it's why she tried so hard to take care of him, to be with him and protect him in the labyrinth and out of it, why she tried so hard to fix him, to give him his mind back after the labyrinth stole it from him. she never really realized until then that that's all she ever really wanted for chris — for him to be happy. she used to think that meant with her, but now she's not so sure. how good is she for him when she sees his brother in her mind more often than she sees him? how good is she when she can't even decide if she wants him here or not? it should be an automatic yes, but there's a hesitation now that she can't deny. he's better off without her. he'll be happier without her. right? ]
[ but part of her knows that isn't true, even as hard as she wants to believe it. chris is the type of person who doesn't let go, but clarisse is the type of person who shoves until the other person is forced to. it's easier to push people out of her life than it is to keep them there, and eventually that would happen with chris, wouldn't it? he's too good for her; he deserves someone so much better. but she knows, deep down, that even if she moves on, he never will. he'll cling to her and wait and hope and pray to every god he knows the name of — and it's the fact that she knows that that makes it so much harder, so much worse when she thinks about the inevitability of never seeing him again, or being stuck here for so long that all he becomes is a distant memory she can replay in the small basin the monarchs gave her, like looking at an old photo album that moves and reminds her of a time long since passed. ]
Nobody wants to let go. [ she's learned a lot about that kind of thing while she's been here — letting go of her anger, her hate, her resentment. it's never completely gone, but continuing to cling to all those negative emotions wasn't doing her any good, nor was it doing anyone else any good. maybe that was the point, but she's had to open her eyes to what's in front of her and stop looking at everything through the lens of the past, even if that past doesn't always feel like it really has passed. ] Sometimes it's necessary. [ at least if she let chris go, she wouldn't feel so miserable about him all the time. ]
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[ but part of her knows that isn't true, even as hard as she wants to believe it. chris is the type of person who doesn't let go, but clarisse is the type of person who shoves until the other person is forced to. it's easier to push people out of her life than it is to keep them there, and eventually that would happen with chris, wouldn't it? he's too good for her; he deserves someone so much better. but she knows, deep down, that even if she moves on, he never will. he'll cling to her and wait and hope and pray to every god he knows the name of — and it's the fact that she knows that that makes it so much harder, so much worse when she thinks about the inevitability of never seeing him again, or being stuck here for so long that all he becomes is a distant memory she can replay in the small basin the monarchs gave her, like looking at an old photo album that moves and reminds her of a time long since passed. ]
Nobody wants to let go. [ she's learned a lot about that kind of thing while she's been here — letting go of her anger, her hate, her resentment. it's never completely gone, but continuing to cling to all those negative emotions wasn't doing her any good, nor was it doing anyone else any good. maybe that was the point, but she's had to open her eyes to what's in front of her and stop looking at everything through the lens of the past, even if that past doesn't always feel like it really has passed. ] Sometimes it's necessary. [ at least if she let chris go, she wouldn't feel so miserable about him all the time. ]