#in the mourning

[paramooreee]

HAYLEY WILLIAMS — Landslide: Through The Years

[userparamore]

IN THE MOURNING | PARAMORE nashville, tn | feb. 6th

(x)

[bringmoreknives]

in the mourning live at the opry, 2.6.2023

[paracunt]

Hayley performing In The Mourning at The Grand Ole Opry (2023) via AvKv85

[tiwtdafs]

marjorie, taylor swift / in the mourning, paramore

[pmoresquad]

Hayley & Taylor practising In The Mourning in 2011

[imdowndownbutdefinetlynotout]

Caitlyn Siehl - This is not a love poem/Fleetwood Mac - Landslide/ Raymond Carver - Where I'm calling from/ Lorde - Hard feelings /James Baldwin - Giovanni's Room/ Gunnar Ardelius - I need you more than I love you and I love you to bits/ Lily King - Writers and lovers/ Raymond Carver - what we talk about when we talk about love/ Paramore - In the mourning

[just-ur-local-peach]

in the mourning i’ll rise / in the mourning i’ll let you die

[where-the-lines-overlap]

Mourning Rituals

when i was a teen, i would wake up every day and begrudgingly get out of bed and dress for the day and get ready to leave for school. i was preparing for adulthood. when i was a young adult, i would wake up and smoke—a cigarette and then a bowl of pot. i was preparing for depression; another day of feeling lost. (don't worry, i quit the pot and the cigarettes a long time ago & sought treatment for the depression.) now i'm in my mid-to-late-thirties. i wake up and immediately want a coffee to start my day. is this normal adult behavior? probably. i'm content with my life. i like my routine: walk the dog, drink a cup of coffee and catch up on the world events/social media, feed the animals, make breakfast, have another cup of coffee, start chores...you get the point. very adult-ish. but i began to wonder: is this morning cup of coffee just a small ritual to keep me sane? is it another form of coping from the mundane, like the cigarettes? i don't remember much from my younger years, but based on all the children i've known, they don't seem to need a ritual. they get up and are ready to go play, have fun, start their day. how do we, as adults, get that back? can we even get it back?

| Iris

[notstinky]

TIMING: Various (2007, 2010, 2016, 2022) LOCATION: Toronto, Ontario CONTENT: Sibling Death tw, death (described in obituaries), implied bullying SUMMARY: There are no friendships greater than those forged in the halls of public school. Too bad Cynthia ate all her friends.

Zainab Khan (2000-2022).

Zainab was a regular volunteer at The Yonge Street Mission and her friends and family remember her as a compassionate woman. She was attending Toronto Metropolitan University as a part of the real estate management program. She is survived by her mother, father and two younger brothers.

2007 - "Wanna trade?"

Cynthia looked up at the girl towering over her, shoving a tin-foil wrapped package into her face. Cynthia looked around, wondering when the joke was going to come. All the other kids had pushed their desks up together, even Cynthia's desk partner had pushed hers halfway across the room to join her friends. Even though the teacher had told her not to; even though they weren't supposed to do it.

They'd had a substitute for the day.

"Um, I'm..." Cynthia stared at her ham and cheese sandwich. She'd been picking apart the crust for a few minutes now and had earned herself a neat pile.

"It's a pizza pocket," the girl explained.

"Oh." Cynthia blinked. When her father went shopping, he told her that they didn't have the money for any of the stuff she pointed out to him. It was ham and cheese on white bread for her most days. She was lucky enough to get a few chips to carry around in a plastic baggie. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I don't like 'em." The girl sat down on the edge of Cynthia's desk. She unraveled her pizza pocket and snatched up Cynthia's sandwich. "I'm Zainab," she said.

Cynthia resisted the urge to tell her that she knew, because they did attendance everyday and she liked to listen to all the names and their accompanying 'present' or 'here'. "I'm Cynthia," she said and imagined that Zainab resisted the same urge.

Zainab took a big bite of her sandwhich and Cynthia's hand shot up into the air. "Um," she squeaked, flushing. "Can you eat ham?"

Zainab opened her mouth, revealing the unswallowed mush of bread, ham and cheese. "No," she spoke with her mouthfull. "Bha do I do?"

Cynthia held out her hands and Zainab spat the sandwich out on to them. The two of them stared at the slush and laughed.

Ham and cheese couldn't be switched but as it turned out, Zainab hated her orange juice boxes and Cynthia hated her apple juice ones.

Leslie Hsu (2000-2022)

Growing up in Vancouver, Leslie's parents moved to Toronto when she was nine. She was a student of The University of Toronto's science program majoring in Biology. Leslie is survived by her mother and father. Leslie Hsu will be deeply missed.

2010 -

"I'm not gonna talk to her, she's weird."

Zainab looked pointedly at her best friend. "You're weird," she responded.

"No." Cynthia turned red. "You're weird."

The sounds of Leslie's crying were, to her credit, rather subdued in her corner of the playground. Zainab reached out and pinched Cynthia before she shoved her forward. Her shoes squeaked as stopped herself from tumbling on to Leslie's hunched body.

Cynthia's thin body cast a small shadow across the asphalt and Leslie looked up, sniffling at her.

"Um, yeah, Montell's a real jerk. I'm sorry he, uh, pushed you." Cynthia kicked at the ground. "Or like whatever."

Leslie wiped at her cheeks. Cynthia's worn jeans, old off-brand sneakers and holey t-shirt were a farcry from her pristine spring dress and navy blue espadrilles. She twisted her body to face the other girl.

"Is this seat taken?" Cynthia laughed awkwardly, pointing to the spot beside her.

Leslie laughed because it was the sort of thing you did when someone asked a stupid question. Cynthia sat down quickly and Zainab joined them on the floor, moving around small pebbles.

"I'm sorry I called you poor," Leslie said all at once.

"Yeah," Cynthia shrugged. "Well, it was true, so..."

"No it's not," Leslie argued, because that was the sort of thing you did when someone called themselves poor.

"No, really." Cynthia perked up. "I'm so poor I roll around on the ground to get enrichment."

Leslie stared at Cynthia. Silence stretched between them and with each distant roar of laughter from the playground, Cynthia shrunk into herself. When Leslie finally spoke, it was with a smile.

"That doesn't even make sense," she said. "You're so weird."

Zainab kicked Cynthia's foot.

Jalisa Jordan (2000-2022)

Jalisa died in hospital from injuries following the gruesome Lakeshore Blvd. animal attack. She was a student of The University of Toronto's English program. She will be remembered as the energetic and friendly woman that she was. She is survived by her mother, father, and older sister.

2016 -

"I caught a new one."

Cynthia and Leslie looked up at the girl Zainab had her arms around. She looked at the two of them with wide-eyes and a tight smile. The two girls shared a look between each other and over the French notes they were sharing. Their half-eaten lunches sent the aroma of oranges and cheese into the air.

"Her name is Jalisa," Zainab broke the silence. "She just moved here."

"We're trying to study, Zee," Leslie said.

"Yeah, we're conjugating verbs," Cynthia backed up her friend.

"Oh, do you guys have Ms. Boni for French?" Jalisa asked, surprising everyone with the sound of her voice. Cynthia thought this might have been the occasion to cheer; the girl can talk! Ring the bells!

"Yeah?" Cynthia squinted.

"Oh, I have her in the morning. I just had the test."

At once, Cynthia and Leslie parted themselves, smacking the space of open tile that they made. Jalisa slid across the floor as she joined them laughing at their notes.

"'Êtes' has a circonflexe," Jalisa explained, pointing at the first letter.

Leslie snatched her notes up, holding them close to her chest. "I was about to add it," she frowned.

"Um, so where are you from?" Cynthia asked.

Jalisa responded quickly, "Mississauga."

Leslie's face scrunched up. "We had a French trip to watch some movie in a dank theatre there."

"Yeah." Cynthia brightened up, grinning. "Les Pee-Wee."

"Oh my god, yeah." Jalisa unfurled her crossed legs. "The one with the totally gay hockey players."

"Yes!" Cynthia's smile grew wider. She nudged Leslie. "See, I told you! They totally gave gay vibes."

Leslie countered, "they were not gay."

"They slept in the same bed! That's gay!"

Leslie sighed, "we sleep in the same bed sometimes."

"And it's gay when we do it," Cynthia frowned.

"It's kinda gay," Jalisa said.

Cynthia nudged them both, grinning wide. "I like you, Jalisa," she announced.

"Thanks." Jalisa bit the inside of her cheek. "You're okay."

Cynthia "Cindy" Liang (2000-)

2022 -

The lights of Jalisa's blue honda civic did little to cut through the unusual fog covering the streets. Her GPS complained loudly at her, reminding her that she'd taken a wrong turn and then several more wrong turns.

"I told you to let me drive," Leslie huffed in her place from the front passenger seat, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Leslie, I swear to god...." Jalisa groaned, tapping at the screen fruitlessly as she tried to adjust the route. Her car moved at a nonexistent pace and from the back seat, Zainab was thankful for the empty roads.

"Just do a three-point turn here," she suggested.

Cynthia growled.

"Cindy?"

Cynthia was doubled over, she'd undone her seatbelt a few wrong turns ago. She clutched her stomach; she clawed at it. Sweat turned her pale skin slick and drool spilled from between her trembling lips.

"Cindy, are you okay?" Zainab's hand was on her back, rubbing small circles. "Hey, Jalisa, pull over. I think Cindy's feeling sick."

"What?" Jalisa twisted around briefly before she snapped her attention in front of her. "But I just got on the right road."

"Jalisa." Zainab's voice turned severe. "Pull over now."

Cynthia's body twitched. From deep inside her chest, she let out a low, constant growl. Her fingers dug into her flesh.

Leslie spun around. "Cindy? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

The car halted; Jalisa clicked it into park, flicking the emergency lights on. She joined her friends in staring at Cynthia.

A cracking sound erupted across the car. Then a pop.

"Cindy?"

On the night of October 8th, 2022, a horrifying scene was discovered inside a vehicle on Lakeshore Blvd. W by Islington Ave. Two girls were pronounced dead at the scene with a third rushed to hospital. It is believed that the girls were on their way to pick up a friend. Authorities speculate that a bear broke into the parked vehicle but no word has been officially released yet. A warning has been issued for the city of Toronto and Peel region. Trips into wooded areas are discouraged.

[paramooreee]

HAYLEY WILLIAMS | During "In The Mourning" | Grand Ole Opry, 2023

[everyoneisabadguy]

we don’t talk about in the mourning enough. it sounds like a train, like running away, like tumble weeds and tall grass and fresh grief and cold water and wet soil. like calling people “folks” and like a small town somewhere. like a chugging black scratched up train on some random tuesday in the middle of nowhere and you’re the only passenger. head pressed up against the window, fogging up the glass, feeling your eyes water because damn it hurt… everything just hurt so much and you weren’t ready to move on. you would deal with this later. tomorrow. in the morning. but for now you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking thinking thinking thinking. thinking too much about too much. you’d bury this pain someday and this would all pass.. and you knew that. but it still hurt. it would for while.

[charlattehotte]

whats ur current emotional support song hahahahaha

[paracunt]

Hayley performing In The Mourning / Landslide at The Grand Ole Opry (2023) via allibott

[mermaidinthecity]

And it takes all my strength not to dig you up from the ground in which you lay. The biggest part of me, you were the greatest thing and now you're just a memory to let go of. And in the mourning I'll rise. And in the mourning I'll let you die. In the mourning, all my sorries. In the mourning I'll rise. In the mourning I'll let you die. In the mourning, all my sorries.

In The Mourning by Paramore