pbsugr

[pbsugr]

bye

[pbsugr]

“Dear, Thomas...this is the first letter I can remember writing. Obviously I don’t know if I wrote any before the maze. But even if it’s not my first, it’s likely to be my last. I want you to know that I’m not scared. Well, not of dying, anyway. It’s more forgetting. It’s losing myself to this virus, that’s what scares me. So every night, I’ve been saying their names out loud. Alby. Winston. Chuck. And I just repeat them over and over like a prayer, and it - and it all comes flooding back. Just the little things like where the sun used to hit the Glade at that perfect moment right before it slipped beneath the walls. And I remember the tase of Frypan’s stew. I never thought I’d miss that stuff so much.

And I remember you. I remember the first time you came up in the Box. Just a scared little Greenie who couldn’t even remember his own name. But from that moment you ran into the Maze, I knew I would follow you anywhere. And I have. We all have. The future’s in your hands now, Tommy. And I know you’ll find a way to do what’s right. You always have. Take care of everyone for me. And take care of yourself. You deserve to be happy. And thank you for being my friend. Goodbye, mate…Newt.”

[pbsugr]

scuse me while i cryYyyy

I saw this at like 1:40 am and immediately started ugly crying

[pbsugr]

hIS FACE OH MY GLOB HELP

[pbsugr]

what if the reason why we feel sad for no reason is because someone in the world died but doesnt have anyone to grieve them so the sadness passes onto us

[pbsugr]

she was the sword

he was the flower

she painted the skies

with swatches of his blood

she filled the oceans

with gallons of his tears

she sung the melodies

of his cries of pain

she framed pictures

of his expressions of misery

when does it end?

when will the scars

on his arms fade?

when will the water

on his cheeks dry?

when will the whimpers

from his lips silence?

when will the torment

on his face soften?

the sword crumbled

the flower flourished

the skies opened up

and washed away the scarlet

the oceans dried 

and rid of his tears

the broken rhythm silenced

and his pain muted

the frozen frames of agony fell

and scattered in the form of glass

the sword began to crumble

the flower started to flourish

her sharpness began to blunt

his pain started to vanish

her cruelty began to drown 

his hurt started to melt

her words began to quiet

his angst started to evaporate

her brutality began to numb

his anguish began to dissipate

she was the sword that fell apart

he was the flower that came back together