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I think the thing about the existence of the wilderness (in the supernatural sense) is that there was some sort of supernatural element out there with them. I say this because there are inexplicable elements to the show (no eyed man, Jackie's dying hallucination, Van's seeing things as she was dying). But that thing did not make them do the things they did.

Let's think about it here. When Lottie was speaking French, she said "it wants blood". Someone translated it fully (I don't remember who so if someone wants to tag them), the French translated to something like "I gave it offerings, but it wants blood. Yet blood doesn't mean death. You can get a papercut and bleed.

Which brings me to my point. The wilderness gives them something when there's blood. Not when there's death. When they were on their periods, they were eating better. When the plane crashed, van survived because of the blood spilled. During the seance, the spirit left Lottie when she was bleeding. When Shauna got a nosebleed on the symbol, the birds fell from the sky. At doomcoming, slitting Travis's throat brought the bear. When Laura Lee flew the plane, it saved Van. As Shauna was giving birth, Travis cutting his palm saved Shauna's life.

They have to spill blood to get what they want. They don't have to kill.

That's the whole point. There is something out there with them, but the girls are also crazy. It was just them. Them who decided to kill.

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Perhaps the wilderness in Yellowjackets is not just a symbol of death. Perhaps it is also—in its own way—freedom.

In the wilderness, Lottie didn’t have to hide her visions for fear of being called crazy. She was exalted as a leader and a prophet. But when she returned, they called her crazy and locked her up.

In the wilderness, Misty didn’t have to be ashamed of her intensity and eccentricity. She was helpful, she was needed, she was important. But when she returned, they called her a freak and exiled her once again.

In the wilderness, Tai didn’t have to pretend to be something she’s not. Her other self was not a weakness but a strength, it gave her power, and kept her alive. But when she returned she had to suppress her urges and hide her other self, or lose everything.

In the wilderness, Shauna didn’t have to be small, and hide the fire inside her. She was angry, and violent, and powerful. But when she returned, she was forced back into a supporting role, forced to contain her darkness and her drive in order to fit a role she never wanted to play.

In the wilderness, Travis didn’t have to put on an act to fit the societal expectations of masculinity. He was feminine, and emotional, and soft—not the man of the group, but just another Yellowjacket in the hive. But when he returned, he was forced back into the cage—back into the closet—isolated, hardened, closed off and separated from the girls once more.

In the wilderness, Natalie didn’t have to feel guilty for surviving. She was the hunter, the provider, and the gun in her hands made her a savior, and a leader, not a killer. But when she returned, she was a killer once again, haunted by guilt, and outcast by society for the things she did to stay alive.

The wilderness gave them the freedom to be their truest and most authentic selves, but the cost was the blood spilled. The cost was their old selves. The cost was a place in the world upon their return.

Maybe the wilderness did not destroy them; it simply changed them into something new, something irrevocably different, something that would never—could never—fit back inside the narrow box of their old lives, and because they could no longer fit, society called them broken.

The wilderness freed them, but it never let them go. Because once you’ve tasted flesh and blood, once you’ve stared death in the face and overcame, once you’ve been to the very brink and seen the true depth of your own capacity for violence, once all the former markers of morality and success have become meaningless, in a world where survival at all costs is the only law, how can you ever go back to a world ruled by pointless, hollow, conventions? Once you’ve shed every remnant of your humanity, once you’ve run with the wolves, and howled at the moon, and become one with the ancient wild gods, how can you ever be a human again? Once you’ve had a taste of complete freedom, how can you ever be satisfied with a fake, insignificant, half-life, made up entirely of half-truths and haunting?

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late one evening

nev.in.color

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Helping shovel snow.

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just watched concrete try and fail to fit into this napkin holder for the past five minutes, now he’s just been standing with his front paws in it looking mad and tired

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do you ever get stuck in between “it’s ok not to have everything on track i got time” and “i’ve already wasted my life at the ripe old age of 23”

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so apparently sleeping doesn’t make your problems go away. I woke up and everything still sucked. shocked and upset

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#ThanksgivingWithWhiteFamilies 

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I’m like his mother.  I have to keep him in check. (x)