beanieelizabethbeans - Tumblr blog

[beanieelizabethbeans]

We are nothing but a game to the Goddesses we are meant to love.

They watch us with their milky eyes and plaster grins, drinking their cocktails mixed of salty tears and bitter blood. In our dreams we see them, sword in hand, sword in heart. They hold our souls on puppet strings, toying with us until we drop dead. They've built their thrones atop our burial grounds, their palaces on our battle fields. Their marble fortresses are stained with our blood. They never have to worry about it fading, every hundred years there's a fresh coat.

One thousand years ago and another four hundred, the first Rite was performed. It was only Apollonia and Amalthea then, sisters of sun and moon.

Princess Elizabeth was the first to play and the first to win. Her goddess became Zorina, of Life.

The Second Princess was the first to lose. There is a story we’ve heard that says her goddess still walks the earth today, solemn, lost, looking for something she never had: freedom.

When Princess Creiddylad won two hundred years after Princess Elizabeth, her goddess was granted power over death, Morgana was her name, all because Creiddylad stained the world red with her Rite. She would do anything, anything to win. And she did. Of course she did. We all are supposed to win.

The Second Princess was the outlier. The Second, The Sixth, The Ninth, and The Tenth.

And now Paget. The Fifteenth.

They are the failures. The numbered mistakes. The ones that were never supposed to happen. They’re the ones whose names you don’t learn in school, whose portraits you will never see in the halls of your church or hear the choir sing songs about them. No one will give their children their names, after their triumphs and successes. No one will pray to the goddesses who stood by their sides as they lived and as they died.

No, the only people who know their names are the princess and her goddess themself. Only us.

Because to us, they’re the warnings. This is what will happen if you lose, the priestesses say. They’re examples of everything that we could become.

Everything that we did become.

It was never supposed to happen like this.

When Amalthea and Apollonia initiated the first Rite, no one was ever supposed to die. But somehow, The Second Princess did.

And then there were more than two options.

It was no longer just win or lose, the Rite became live or die. But to us, they mean the same thing.

And that's why we’re here.

We are the failures, the mistakes. We are the ones whose songs you will never hear and whose names you will never remember.

But we will make sure that you remember theirs.

Because they were more than the just Princess and her Goddess. They were children. They were creators. They were the outliers who saw their world as more than just something they had to fight to stay in. For them, it was beautiful. Wonderful, even. They were lovers, content in each other's arms. They sang and they danced and they drew and they smiled. They laughed like honey.

We never laughed.

But in the end, after the Rite was over and all that was left was blood and tears and screams, when their laughter were just echoes and their smiles just shadows, she still had memories of being happy with her.

That’s more than what any of us could ever say.

And for that, she is not one of us.

[beanieelizabethbeans]

I never thought much about what it is that I write. My mind flows from word to word like the rushing of water. When I was younger I would obsessively look for prompts, pictures and lines and songs and anything because I was raised to believe that my creativity was nothing compared to other people’s. I quickly learned that that way of thinking was complete bullshit. It started to get easier to write my feelings and thoughts than to write what other people deemed to be good writing. I try not to think about what I write, rather I write what I think. If I think too hard about my words then I’ll fall through the holes. It’s funny too, because during my day to day life all I can do is think. I guess it’s less thinking and more worrying. I’m always worrying. Worrying about food and homework and him and me and everything. But I don’t worry about writing, at least I try not to. Because writing is just me. And when I finally get the words in front of me, processing all my worries suddenly becomes a lot easier.

[beanieelizabethbeans]

The wind howled over the ocean, a devil’s song in the sky still recovering from the sun’s goodbye kiss. I almost see myself in the clouds. I cry for you to come back, and they cry for the sun. You were my sun, do you know that? No, I don’t think you do. You never really knew much about me I guess, at least I don’t think you did. I told you. I think I told you everything. I just don’t know if you listened. But right now as the clouds cry for the sun, I cry for you. There are no tears in my eyes, but I think my heart has been crying since our last goodbye. My pores leak the tears of my veins. Do you cry for me? Did you ever cry for me? 

[beanieelizabethbeans]

I've always loved the idea of death. The calmness, the permanence, the peacefulness of it all. I'm not sure if I ever really thought through this obsession though, because I don't think I realized that when I longed to die I still wouldn't be happy. Death is dark, and I've always been scared of it when you aren't there to hold my hand. I don't like what's become of us, but I want to stay by your side even still because I will follow you anywhere and everywhere. We promised each other that. the least we could do it keep up on it.

[beanieelizabethbeans]

I love writers talking about their typewriters.

friend: "you have a typewriter?"

me: "yeah! her name is Lottie, she's a Smith Corona coronet electric from the 50s. She was my grandmother's."

friend: "oh my goodness she's gorgeous. mine's an Olivetti. Not nearly as pretty as Lottie-"

me: "noooo"

[beanieelizabethbeans]

And do you even remember? She wants to ask with all the sincerity in the world. Do you even remember what it was like to hold someone’s hand without the worry that they’d be holding their knife in the other?

     Do you even remember the time you could drift into slumber without the worry that you might not drift out?

      Do you remember laughing and singing and dancing and crying, me in your arms because the one lie you ever told me was that you would be there by my side forever?

      And the last one to herself, she wants to ask if she remembers ever being happy.

      She knows her answer.

     I did, at one time. There was a time where I strung flowers in my hair and danced through my life, only worrying about the grass stains in my new white dress. I remember holding your hand, resting my head on your shoulders when my eyelids grew too heavy to keep open. I remember how you got so excited you picked me up and spun me round and around.

     I should’ve known better. I was little then. And naive. And I took loving words too literally. But yes, I do remember being happy. I remember being happy with you.

[beanieelizabethbeans]

She gives everything to the ones she loves. Everything everything everything

Because she knows what it’s like to be given up on.

She knows what it’s like to have nobody care.

She knows what it’s like to give everything until she has nothing.

She had a bucket full of water.

But people were dying

So she poured cup after cup because she had something to give

And when her bucket emptied, when she had nothing left

No one gave her anything

A smile and an I love you

But it’s not enough.

She needs what she gave.

She has nothing left

Yet she gives and she gives and she gives

And when she can’t anymore, she does anyway

Because she cares

But do they?

Cries shatter the dark.

But no one hears.

Why would they?

[beanieelizabethbeans]

i'll always be here for you.

We sang those words like the falling of rain

Like the yellow smiles that filled the mundane

And we laughed and we cried, tears in our eyes

Because we never wanted a single thing to change

i'm still here for you.

I whisper those words like the firefly glow

Like the brown sludging the snuffed out snow

And I throw my head back and let the tears run black

Because there's no love anymore

Just fear.

please still be here.