#naaiivety

[makochosena]

@naaiivety liked!

❝ This is stupid! No matter how hard I try, I just can’t get sign language right. ❞

[angeluus-blog]

“it’s okay to hurt & breakdown. you don’t have to be strong all the time.”

I DON’T REMEMBER, THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS & IT HURTS || ( accepting !! )

           legs were dangling off the ledge. staring down into that seeming abyss. fingers itching on the inside of wrists. leaving behind scathed skin, burning etches digging deep beneath the surface. drawing blood in its attempt to hold it all together. as if trying to prick a needle and watch it thread itself in uneven stitches. pulled together with a variety of dead body parts-- a living, breathing frankenstein. brought together by the collective memories of breaking down at the hand of his creator, only to try putting himself together -- every new appearance, looking less and less like himself. hiding in the dark. screaming in his mind as all the hands kept pulling and tugging. trying to restrain the pieces of him that were still left.

           strength wasn’t in his dna. it was a pseudonym for his obvious shortcomings. he was caged in his own mind. what he was doing was a necessary service -- bottling himself up just tight enough... to keep it from all LEAKING out. keeping it from hurting the people around him. trying desperately to hide it away, in hopes-- he would be the only one left to hurt. 

           he was a sheep hiding in wolf’s clothing. right there in plain sight. leather camouflaging skin. dirt kicking up from the slight movement of his feet. trying desperately to keep himself on the tightrope... STEADY. like a well-rehearsed circus act... only for the animal to be beaten down behind the scenes. 

           hardly taking in that sentiment playing along her fingers. losing it in the jumble of the forces pulling his brain apart... and the strings tearing his heart to shreds... just a corpse breathing. 

           breathes becoming heavier and heavier as his eyes focused on the gravel under his soles. trying desperately to prim and prime... put on the concealer. and just keep moving. he couldn’t allow his nightmares reality. not here, not for wendla... they were his own curse. and he was the only one meant to bear them. --  alone... in solidarity... as it all came crashing in. he couldn’t bear to let them consume her too... she DESERVED so much more.

           fingers finally unlatched with the faint smell of blood staining the tips. his shoulders collapsing in on themselves, hardly holding his frame together. rooted in the ground, rocking with the wind. those fingers now only left shaking as they attempted a mask at whim, “ i... i’m fine... wendla... i DON’T need to talk. ”

[angeluus-blog]

" God forgot about me. "

I DON’T REMEMBER, THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS & IT HURTS || ( accepting !! )

          words fail. fingers ticking, digging nails deep inside his palms. as if to force his battered skin into place. trying desperately to search… to find something. there was only one thing he knew for certain– that of all people, if such a thing existed– a god could only be cruel if it managed to leave wendla bergmann behind. arguably– without her, there would be no meaning he could even associate with the idea. she held the world together, somehow with those gentle fingers– she kept it all in balance. creating light in places she may never even get to see. right there in other people…even-- in him.

          he knew– whatever he said may fall insignificant to this spirituality. it was something he could just never grasp. he’d stopped believing a long time ago. only given evidence of a dead deity. a corpse used by his father to crux above others, and damn him with the back of his hand– for it touched holier things in its pseudo-virtue. he knew he could never put his thoughts into an effective form of comforting. wendla’s god was much kinder, greater even than the one used as justification in his father’s house. it was one who looked over the world, cared for it– it was active, alive, a motivator… so when she lost sight of it– the world was less kind. frozen. 

          lost to how his soul could even try to bring a warmth. for in belief, his sphere was so shattered, he wasn’t quite sure if he could see through her window of passion quite enough to make her feel comfort.

          nails finally unlatched, leaving behind imprints of his intense forethought, “ i know… that you know… i’m not worthy of belief – but, i DO believe that any god would could ever forget about you… wendla… isn’t one at all. ”

          “ and if it be – i remember you, moritz remembers you, bobby remembers you, melchior remembers you, thea, anna, martha – we all do. && i’ll do anything… ANYTHING… to make up for that missing piece. ” 

[enjolraaaa]

naaiivety replied to your post: this editorial piece is supposed to be 1k words...

I feel this. my current personal hell is my professor assigning a paper that has to have three specific arguments supporting the thesis with textual, cited evidence and requiring it to be ONLY ONE PAGE

WHAT

HOW

[pcssibilitiesarchive-blog]

naaiivety replied to your post: since it’s b&c month, i have to show you guys my...

NI C OLE HOW THE FU CK $3???

IDK I HONESTLY COULD N O T TELL YOU

someone just looked at it,,, tossed it in a box,,, like

yeah that’s worth a good three dollars

[sollucem-blog]

                  ❛      i mean, EVERYONE deserves a second chance, right ?     ❜

＜  ｀    @naaiivety    ;    call .    ｀    ＞

[pcssibilitiesarchive-blog]

naaiivety replied to your post “naaiivety replied to your post: i really wanna make thanksgiving...”

sit around & talk about those strange americans

them and their weird holidays it’s just an excuse to eat a lot of food and not feel guilty about it

[pcssibilitiesarchive-blog]

naaiivety replied to your post: i really wanna make thanksgiving starters but ella...

this is so cute but wendla is making confused german noises so

ella is the same she’s just ??????