Discover Top Posts Tagged with #plathtask

❛ task 002. / - ̗̀ alternate universe ̖́-

funny things happen when you teach a child how to love. 01. she learns how to love you back, how to scream the words at the top of her lungs when you’re dropping her off at daycare for the first time because she’s never been taught to be afraid of the feeling. hugs come easily and she smiles like the sun when you hold hands crossing the street. you tuck her into bed and she doesn’t flinch when you press a kiss to her forehead. 02. she learns how to love the world around her, how to be fascinated with the stars and the flowers in equal measure without fearing the loss of them -- the first time you take her stargazing, she brings her stuffed bear along and insists that he gets a turn. art teaches her how to observe, music teaches her how to listen and reading teaches her a thousand different ways to love a world she already adores. 03. she learns how to love the people around her, her best friend and her first crush and the girl that helps her with her history homework and the boy with the pink in his hair. she falls in love a hundred times a day and she’s never afraid of hitting the ground, never scared that she might not survive the falling. you watch her break her heart and you help her pick up the pieces, but once they’ve settled back into place inside her rib cage she charges off again, flying and falling and flying again like a bird with soft cotton wings. 04. she learns how to love herself and it’s the hardest lesson she ever learns, but it’s the most important. she learns how to look in the mirror without shaking, without tearing apart imperfections and drowning herself in criticism. her brown hair is beautiful and her mind is brilliant and her hands don’t shake when she presents her art to the world and you’re so proud when you realize she’s finally starting to see herself the way you’ve always seen her.

when you teach a child how to love, she grows up strong and kind and intelligent and beautiful and brave and most importantly, she grows up unafraid of love. sometimes you see children who weren’t so lucky, the way they shake and shout and tremor at the thought of the word you use so easily and you find yourself grateful that you gave her what she needed.

you find yourself heartbroken by the idea of a universe where you didn’t.

#plathtask #plathedit #cause she's just like the weather can't hold her together :: mirror #i was born in a big gray cloud screaming out a love song :: headcanon #&&mine #i'm obsessed with things like this i think abt it all the time #ESPECIALLY with freya #and idk why this is written in second person but YOLO #if u can't tell #the 'you' is supposed to be freya's father #or even just her parents in general #and the EVENT is not being taken to the cult #obvs

❛ task 002. / - ̗̀ alternate universe ̖́-

rewrite the story. tell it again. i want to hear it differently.

i want to hear the version of the story where she makes it out alive, where the ambulance got there in time to find her bleeding but not dead, still gasping for breath and choking on the answer that everyone is terrified to hear. when she limps into class two weeks later, she’s wounded but alive and there’s whispers but she’s not the only one that’s subjected to the wandering eyes and wondering questions.

there’s camaraderie in survival and the drowning girl, the paint can girl, christmas boy, boy with the book, wildfire girl, and gemstone girl have all found some kind of balance in their pain, some way to be alive without being alone. the victims of the violence; the ones who had no choice in their agony. she isn’t one of them -- she chose her fate -- but still they don’t abandon her. when the pain comes and the stitches fail, she has a hand to hold that pulls her back to her feet again.

together they feel the grief and worry that comes when the soldier never comes home, silent glances exchanged in the hallway as they each wonder together if trauma has escalated to murder. in this version of the story, they don’t already know. there is no funeral service for a girl with no family, no broken hearted boy with hole where his first love should be. there’s pain and there’s fear and there’s loss, but no new graves are dug.

it’s another month before they find out just how far the creeper is willing to go.

when the body falls, she’s there with the boy she loves. he holds her when she starts shaking, when she starts cursing the dress she’s wearing because she’s never cared for the fabric around her ankles when she starts running. he holds her close and she confesses the secret of her fear and for once, she accepts that bravery isn’t always in being fearless. bravery is living despite the fear.

the next day, she skips class and spends all her waking hours in the gym. her body still hurts and the wounds are still healing, but she can’t stand being weak. that’s nothing new, but this time it’s different. this time she needs to be strong for other people. she needs to be strong for the ones who aren’t, the ones who are terrified and unable to fight for themselves.

another two weeks pass and she feels strong again and when she walks down the halls, she’s a thunderstorm in beauty and strength. a girl raised on injustice learns how to fight against everything she’s ever known for the sake of the people she never thought she could care for. she’s still messy brown hair and dirty clothes and a foul mouth, but when she fights, she does it with purpose.

i want to hear this version of the story where gun becomes girl becomes shield. i want the version where she doesn’t die alone and instead she learns how to live, how to turn her anger into love and how to become everything she should be without losing who she is. i want the version where the girl marches into battle for people she barely knows and turns herself from tragedy to a hero.

i don’t want the story where she lives happily ever after. just let her live happily.