something bad happened to you, and you died, and you came back wrong.
not wrong all the way. the little ways. you forget important dates, stopped going out with friends. it's harder to make you smile. you're apathetic towards things you used to love, afraid of places you used to go to cheer up. quieter. flinching. different.
you came back for love. you're still here for love. what pulled you back was a brightness so loud that even death couldn't outshout it. death heard the call and smiled at you and said okay. go home. somebody is waiting for you.
but you came back different. like lot's wife; you've turned into salt. you used to chirp through life in hops and skips; but now you lose skin just standing up. you have to move slower, skimming across this world without-touching-it. most things feel dull - until they're suddenly all-too-much. life, and being alive just rushes up and over you and you get hopelessly crushed.
you try to explain it to them: it is ugly, but this is what you are, now. the huge golden hoop of your halo now a little bronze ring. you are still watering your plants and wearing the same clothes. after all, you worked hard to come home. this life; so odd and off-color, now that you are wrong.
but they waited for you - it's just that they wanted the "you" that happened before this. the "you" that could sing in the show and hug people tight and look at a blade without breaking down to cry. the you with a smile in pictures. god, holyshit, it's like looking at a completely different person, isn't it. that other-you; the one they actually wanted.
you are the consolation prize. you are the body that forgot the ghost. you are the memory of the bad thing, and the death after; like you are wearing that memory as a banner. you are a fragment, an assembly. simulacrum. you don't make eye contact in mirrors, afraid the light will glance off and your true nature will flash back at you.
you hear them talk about it in their hushed, desperate whispers. sometimes they even admit it to your face; harsh and violent, acid thrown at christmas dinner. god, can you just fucking be normal again. you do not remember what normal is. you had to climb so far to get back here; you are far too exhausted. you want to open the glass door of your heart and show all the gears. can you help resolve whatever got messed up?
you try so, so hard. you came back for them. because you believed they would love you, even when you were so horribly broken. because you believed they would be patient. because you believed unconditional meant "without exception." you cannot do things the same way. you just get tired too quickly these days.
you want to put them on a couch and pour them the tea with hands that shake more than they remember. you want to line them up and draw them a map of where you have had to wander. you want to show every bruise in a backsplash; the little helpless ant of your soul carrying all that weight, over and over. you want to say: yes! it is different! but i did it for love!
you want to say: "i'm not the same, but i'm yours and i'm here. can that be enough?"
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All of my recent art has been Life SMP (or HC) based so here's more! I like the idea of each season having a unique indicator of lives so here's some concepts, 3L is patches worn on clothes, LL is small gems used as charms or jewelry, DL has matching necklaces and LimL has a watch. I'm still working on figuring out what SL will be :(
More ramblings under the cut for those who are interested in my thoughts:
The winner of each season carries the past life in all future seasons, so my Grian will have a red patch, Scott a gem, Pearl her half of the heart, and Martyn a clock (and Scar whatever I end up deciding on for SL). The patches are supposed to look handmade and nonuniform, the gems are fairly small only about 3.5cm (less than 1.4in) but they all are roughly the same. The hearts and the watches vary depending on who they belong to, but the heart halves always match to some extent
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the last few days I've been thinking about Eddie calling Steve all kinds of pet names, he and Robin have a bet, Eddie has to see how many different ones he can come up with and also aim to make Steve blush so hard he has to cover his face (this has only happened once and Robin needs to see it again).
Que Eddie, walking around calling him everything under the sun, Sweetheart, Honey, Cutie Pie, Bambi (that one gets him quite a lot of blush but still not enough), Hot Stuff, Beautiful, Daddy Long Legs (that had gotten him a glare and shove to the shoulder, and some neck blushing.) You name a sweet or weird pet name, he's used it, and gotten nowhere. Robin has broken down and started feeding him pet names to help at this point.
And then one day, just out of the fucking blue, the words "Sugar Tits" fall out of his mouth and he's mortified. But so is Steve. The blush crawls down his neck and he hides behind his hands, but he's also flustered and (seemingly) outraged. Like, picture Captain Holt from Brooklyn 99 during the BOoOooOooONE!?!?!??! situation. (And in case y'all can't picture it i made a handy guild: pictured below 👍🏻).
But Steve KEEPS bringing it up because "EDWARD WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST CALL ME!?!?!" and Eddie is equally mortified and he's like "I DON'T KNOW IT JUST CAME OUT!!! IM SO SORRY!!"
They aren't dating when this happens. But they start dating because of it. And Eddie absolutely calls Steve sugar tits aaaaalllllll the time after this. Only when they're alone. It always makes Steve snort and blush and scowl. But he secretly adores it, cuz it always comes with Eddie hugging or kissing or cuddling him.
Meme incoming in 3...2...1...
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Thoughts create emotions, emotions create feelings and feelings create behaviour. So it’s very important that our thoughts are positive, to attract the right people, events and circumstances into our lives.
Avis J. Williams, The Psychic Mind: A Practical Guide to Psychic Development & Spiritual Growth
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