mortallyunabashedcrusade - Tumblr blog

[mortallyunabashedcrusade]

This looks like the way i feel about my comfort movie. This warmth in a cold place like the picture with the piano in the front and as exciting as it would feel to walk up those stairs. Sunlight slowly creeping through all the creeks and engulfing you in a hue of kindness and love.

Memories are playing a game in the land of oblivion.

[mortallyunabashedcrusade]

"Big cliffs build in his mind, big rocks lined the way to defeat but he would not take flight"

[mortallyunabashedcrusade]

"But as you left your shadows turned into icy cold spikes"

[mortallyunabashedcrusade]

The deep arts of forgiving are easier then forgetting.

[mortallyunabashedcrusade]

Her fingers curled around the lighter. Shredded and bloody from frantically turning the little weel trying to set it on fire. But it would only send sparks on it's way, burning little holes into her shirt. Not that she cared. It'll be over soon anyways but the lighter didn't do anything. It wouldn't help her even if she oh so desperately tried. Nothing flared up not her clothing, not her furniture, neither the house on the edge of the forest, nor the world around her or herself. She tried and she tried again but it wouldn't work. Eventually she knew it wasn't the stupid little thing in her hand that just wouldn't bring her peace. It was her, just her and her brain.

[mortallyunabashedcrusade]

Tw: Sh

I have sh scars and people ask about them, when you have scars of any type then you can probably relate. People ask and you have to search for excuses again and again. But my little cousin, i couldn't lie to her it seemed impossible for me. So the first thing that came to my mind was telling her storys about big wars i had won and the torture i had endured. I told my story but in a childish way. And yes one day she will understand but for now those permanent scars are a dragons claws and the small ones that fade might just be from climbing towers to save a princess or from playfighting with my brothers.

[mortallyunabashedcrusade]

I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And i shan't recover this time

Virginia Woolf, Suicide Note to her husband, 1941