theshalesky

[theshalesky]

How am i supposed to form a weirdly deep bond (deeper than any romantic bond could ever go) with someone i'd otherwise never become friends with, and whom i didn't even like that much at first, but now we've been through hell together and no one else would understand what we experienced, and because of that we understand each other like no one else could understand us, and we wouldn't be able to let go of each other even if we wanted to because we feel like we're bound together by fate - how am i supposed to find this if i never go on an adventure? huh??

[theshalesky]

expectations: i am an abstract concept. i exist beyond this mortal plane. i am a thought, a story. i will live as long as someone still tells it.

reality: i am an abstract concept. every day i exist a little less in the real world and a little more on the hypothetical plane. i am more wanting and wishing than doing.

[theshalesky]

Is this a problem?

[theshalesky]

big fan of stories that, while undoubtedly being about the power of friendship, acknowledge that the power of incredible violence is just as important

the love was there. the love changed everything. the crowbar helped also

[theshalesky]

i'm all the things that will never be.

(friendships that have never existed. adventures that have never been lived. dreams that have never become reality.)

i smile at you from across the room and we both feel that we could become something together. but i turn away. i will always turn away, because it's easier. it's as simple as that.

i don't take risks. i don't live. it's who i am.

everything i have is shallow, vibrating with potential that will always be wasted, wasted, wasted.

but i like it that way. i think. i have no choice but to like it.

[theshalesky]

writing progress isn’t linear. sometimes it’s a spiral. sometimes it’s a clown car full of goblins. you’re doing great.

[theshalesky]

i will ALWAYS be a sucker for the extremely specific but suprisingly comon trope of "heres this family who was once normal. then some fucked up shit happened to the family, and each one of them was warped and changed into some sort of horrible monster over time, yet are still in a way recognisable to who they once were, just with everything that made them human warped and flanderized until there is nothing left of them"

[theshalesky]

you think the story forgets you when you’re gone. it doesn’t. it waits. patiently. then bites your ankle the second you log back in.

[theshalesky]

[theshalesky]

literally how boring and dull do you have to be to dislike codependent relationships in fiction like where is the passion where is the devotion where is the worship that inevitably corrupts and destroys one if not both of them

[theshalesky]

writing is so fun

[theshalesky]

"Love Is a Suicide", Natalia Kills // Notes from Underground, Fyodor Dostoevsky // Consumed, David Cronenberg // "Baby You're a Haunted House", Gerard Way // "I Don't Care", Fall Out Boy // Unabridged Journals, Sylvia Plath // @oldwinesoul // "The Dance", Nikita Gill // The Carnivorous Lamb, Agustín Gómez Arcos

[theshalesky]

"I always thought you'd rather die alone than with me by your side."

"Then you were wrong. Listen, I know we ruined each other. But you were the closest thing to love I ever got. So please... may I have this last dance?"

[theshalesky]

"Impossible! How can you still move? My spell stops time!" "Yeah that's the problem right there buddy. You created a spell to stop time when you should have created a spell that stops me."

[theshalesky]

shoutout to the subtle horror of food in sci-fi / dystopian settings not being real.

"we haven't had non-synthetic fruit in years." / "of course, the food is actually protein sludge, the chip in your brains just makes you believe it's your favorite meal." / "man, this food printer can't produce a decent coffee..."

horrible. i love it.

[theshalesky]

my dad is alive

somehow the dead father the horrible, horrible father is a universal experience.

i read "his ghost in every footstep" "let him die. let your soul kill him like you always wanted to" "this will make him proud. this will make you better than him" and i nod and i weep and after a moment i remember that i still have a father.

that he is kind that he doesn't expect me to be anything that he gave me no legacy except for an odd mind.

how do i feel the weight of his death on my shoulders when he is only in the other room (as always)? maybe it's not about him. not him as a person a name and black hair but about the father as such.

the father who wants you to become like him who will haunt you like no other living thing is something i know very well. he's in every good grade, in every clean dress: this is what you're supposed to be. and don't you dare falter, you hear me i won't be mad just disappointed... the father lives in the back of my head.

the problem is it is a lot easier to kill a man than a part of yourself.

[theshalesky]

"came back wrong" what about Came Back Afraid. You used to be brave. Too brave maybe, defying the odds at every turn, a fighter, cocky, playing with fire, first to throw yourself at the enemy. Until one day it all caught up to you. You came back, somehow, but now you know all too intimately how it feels to lose, to die, to be destroyed. Now you flinch and freeze and cower at the slightest provocation. Who even are you now if you can't be brave? The grave may have let you go, but the mortal fear still grips you tighter than ever.