devourearth

[devourearth]

We have to go to Kristi. I mean, there's gotta be some sort of medical explanation.

FROM, 3x06 "Scar Tissue"

[devourearth]

I understand the "I will die for you" ship dynamic, but what about the "I will not let you die, I will not let myself die- we will, at any cost, survive" kind of couple?

[devourearth]

[the only person who could get her to stop dead in her tracks is when taissa says, 'if you know what's good for you--'] "there's this mutual respect between the two. i definitely think a lot of it stems from taissa's support with the secret she was hiding from jackie, and undergoing the abortion together, and the support with the pregnancy episode. there's this mutual bond that i don't think can ever be broken. there's this silent support between the two. also, they were both kind of on the none-cult side in the first seasons, so taissa's also the character she trusts the most."

[devourearth]

“These two women are like cosmically connected through the ages, through time, through trauma, and they need each other. And they need each other to feel alive, I guess.”

Their teenage counterparts mirror the dynamic, but it’s Van who surrenders to the wilderness and Tai that’s along for the ride.

“I think that Tai is and will always be charmed by Van, and can be so serious and be so focused, definitely in the wilderness, that the lightness that Van brings and the kind of zoom-out-zoom-in quality that Van has is really nice for Tai. It allows her moments to chuckle, moments to be charmed, moments to just be a teenager in love. And I don’t think anyone could elicit those reactions out of Tai except for Van.”

[devourearth]

It isn’t fair that I have to live with this, but I have to live. I’m resilient. My strength doesn’t come from the bad things that have happened to me. It defies those things. It’ll be all right. No matter what, I’ll be all right.

[devourearth]

Once I stopped thinking about what my life wasn’t going to be, I started to see what it could be.

[devourearth]

There is so much beyond my control. Things that have happened, that will happen. My body. The people in my life, how they perceive me, what they do or don’t do, if they stay or leave. There is pain. Physical and emotional hurt. A cruel inevitability that I can’t prevent no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try.

[devourearth]

I yawn and rub my eyes. Last night comes back to me. The hurt is there, crawling out of the shallow grave I attempted to bury it in. I’ve been fighting so hard for a future, and for what? For whom? It was a mistake, letting my guard down. Giving in to my feelings for Ian. Allowing myself to have those feelings in the first place. I should have known better. I should have protected myself. It’s on me.

[devourearth]

“It wasn’t that bad. I just . . . I keep feeling like I don’t feel the way I’m supposed to. I don’t know how to articulate it. There’s all this pressure. So many things I’m supposed to be doing, to be reading, to be learning. It’s overwhelming. And it’s like nothing is mine anymore. Not my body. Not my mind. Not my emotions. And there’s nothing I can do about it. And—”

[devourearth]

I am safe in my bed. I am asleep. But I am also in the woods. Barefoot. The ground is soft from evening rain. There’s a crimson tint to everything, like the world is soaked in blood. Like I am soaked in blood. I lift my hands and see they are not my hands. I scream, but it’s not my scream. You’re dreaming, I think. Suddenly, I’m behind myself, staring at the back of my own head. It’s not me, in this other body. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the hunger. A limb. An ear. The neck. I wake up in the morning ravenous.

[devourearth]

The downside of perfectionism is that you are so used to getting it right, you completely collapse when you get it wrong. And it will not be me who collapses today.

[devourearth]

“I’m less afraid,” I say. “Of losing.”

“Because you’ve made your peace with it?” he asks.

“Because it’s unlikely.”

[devourearth]

“I want you to be honest!” My father shakes his head.

“No, you want my honest opinion to be the exact thing you need to hear.”

I can feel an ache in my teeth from clenching my jaw. I try to loosen it, but it tightens right back up. My father looks at me.

“Carrie, I do not know how to have an honest conversation with you about your tennis game. Because as good as you are, you have never been able to make peace with failure.”

[devourearth]

What if I’ve fucked this all up?

I can’t let that happen. I have to practice, and I have to plan. I have to work.

My ambition has long felt oppressive. It is not a joy––it is a master that I must answer to, a smoke that descends into my life, making it hard to breathe. It is only my discipline, my willingness to push myself harder, that has been my way through.

But right now, I can feel that my intuition is lacking. I need to be able to improvise, to think faster than I did back in Melbourne, to understand my opponents instinctively.

[devourearth]

She looks so happy, standing there. Like the young kid she is—so full of joy and life and eagerness. Her face is beaming; her skin is flushed.

When did I lose that? The delight of success? When did winning become something I needed in order to survive? Something I did not enjoy having, so much as panic without?

[devourearth]

“Your faith in yourself drove you to the top once. And it can drive you there again,” my father says finally.

I know that he is right. For decades, my talent and drive were utterly devastating to those who stood in my wake. If each person is blessed with an individual gift, determination is mine.

“Do you think you can beat her?” my father says. I respond quicker than I intend. “Yes.”

“And will you be able to bear it if you don’t?” That one takes me far longer to answer. “No.” He closes his eyes and then nods. “All right,” he says, sighing. “Then there is no time to waste.”

[devourearth]

“But sometimes I think being the very best is antithetical to being happy.”

“Yes,” I said. “Exactly.”