#loss

[remanence-of-love]

[biocrafthero]

[letterstoyourlove]

“Their grief is in proportion to their affection they know their loss to be irreparable”

-Jane Austen’s tombstone, Winchester Cathedral. (Epitaph written written in 1817 for legendary author Jane Austen by her brother James, in which he describes the grief of all who knew her).

[poetricismic]

I grieved long enough on losses, but the real person I lost was...me

Poetricismic

[keyauraa]

i am not sorry for this

[ftmtbpod]

PODCAST INTRODUCTION: From This Mouth That Bleeds

a retro-mecha cyberpunk sapphic audio drama (coming soon!)

Blurb

"Humanity took to the stars and left us for dead." Lorelei knows the end. Has seen it flicker along the edges of her home, catch fire to everything she's ever known. Has felt it gnaw its way into her bones, watching as the last safety ship glinted starlight in the sky. Lorelei knows the end. And she knows everything after, too. Lieutenant Lorelei Reeves is a first-generation, three-star pilot for the United Forces of the Red Remembrance. She is the only pilot capable enough to helm the UFRR's greatest mystery; Acheilus, an antiquated shark mecha from before The End. It is a time of peace; the bitterness from the Coalition of The Last Frontier's abandonment has long since diluted away in favor of lucrative trade deals from space - goods that could only benefit the UFRR's longevity underseas. It is a good deal, kind, even. Generous. But Lorelei cannot help but taste the tang of deceit between her teeth. The sickly stick of rot amplifies after she spots another shark mecha circling the edges of UFRR's water space. Sleek black and glinting metal - a convincing imitation of the UFRR's mechanics. The problem with this: Lorelei captains the only shark in the entire fleet.

Themes

loss, grief, being homesick for a home that no longer exists, loud-mouthed pilots, and trauma-stricken lesbians.

Snippet

My hands shake. Admiral Thetis was right about one other thing, too. I had been gone for a long time; I'd been gone for months. Months of an endless blue that pervaded my eyes, an infinitum of mouthless words, and moments to think and move as I pleased. I'd rediscovered creatures that hadn’t been seen in years, listened as whales called through, and laughed when other sharks circled Acheilus, trying to communicate. It might have been the closest thing to peace that I've ever felt.  Peace does not exist in the lion’s den— a name I've mocked HQ with —  instead, the oppressive nature of fear lies thick along the walls of the hull. Fear is every step you take, it is every beating heart, every conspired whisper. It exists within the hollows of my cells, in every ill-intended look cast my way. I am fear and they make me believe it. 

Taglist: let me know if you want to be added <3

Other socials

Twitter | Playlist | Buy me a coffee <3

[cntctchmnw]

15th April 2024

I used to come home from work sweating and hungry to sit in bed and smoke for hours. I wouldn't eat because I still believed someone would love my mouldering body more that way. More than anything I was hungry for you. You used to get upset that I'd talk so desperately about him but I needed something to detract from you. I needed some conduit for the ache I felt for you. I sat in wait for every response and I squeezed every possible meaning from even the smallest of words. Nothing you'd say was ever enough and all the nights I was crushed under it all I'd hope you'd wake up and come save me. In retrospect, I thought of you more as some great omniscient being or angel who'd come to plaster my shaking pieces back together than as a living creature. Sweet angel, you were broken too and all I could think of was how you would save me. I take fragile things and crush them in my weak palms until they shatter and lacerate me in the process. I used you to maim myself over and over again until my hands were too mangled to hold or pick you up anymore.

You used to shake me awake from nightmares of you dying. I watched your sweet soft body crack and break and pieces of me would fall away with it. Do you remember when we'd lay awake before bed and listen to the radio? Occasionally, moments with you overwhelmed me so strongly with contentment that I felt myself leave my corporeal form and sit somewhere soft and quiet in the metaphysical with you.

[f4am0us-piper]

“but if you hold me without hurting me you'll be the first to ever did” lana del rey

[everythingever]

the vocabulary of loss is the dictionary

[remanence-of-love]

[feral-ballad]

Mosab Abu Toha, from Things You May Find Hidden in My Ear: Poems from Gaza

[cerleansky]

The legacies people leave behind in you.

My handwriting is the same style as the teacher’s who I had when I was nine. I’m now twenty one and he’s been dead eight years but my i’s still curve the same way as his.

I watched the last season of a TV show recently but I started it with my friend in high school. We haven’t spoken in four years.

I make lentil soup through the recipe my gran gave me.

I curl my hair the way my best friend showed me.

I learned to love books because my father loved them first.

How terrifying, how excruciatingly painful to acknowledge this. That I am a jigsaw puzzle of everyone I have briefly known and loved. I carry them on with me even if I don’t know it. How beautiful.

~Edit~

Yikes guys I didn’t expect this post to blow up.

I’m grateful it did though. Looking at all the comments and tags really takes a stab at my heart because it just shows how wired we are for connection. If life has any meaning, then it’s that.

This concept really sunk its teeth into me as it reassures the notion that no one is ever truly gone. Parts of them just change into you.

That teacher I talked about inspired me to become a teacher myself. This was my first year teaching. Here’s to a new generation of curved i’s.

[haleyincarnate]

Forgive yourself.

[roadworxx]

[didi023]

[ghoulpoole]

dear nex,

your school failed you.

your peers failed you.

the hospital failed you.

authorities fail you,

adults fail you,

words fail you.

i fail you,

and i'm so sorry.