That's not really a helpful way to think about this situation, is it? But it's true. Undeniable, even. This place sucks and she- hates it? Is that the right word? No, no, that can't be right. She doesn't have room for hate in that heart of hers, after all. No, she pities it; she pities this place and everyone in it, deeply, irrevocably, like a still-oozing wound on her heart. Gravity means nothing here - it is fixed and stable, with no chance for individual intervention. it is artificial and human in the way that so many earthbound individuals like to brag about. It is absolute in its judgment; humans are animals, meant to stay on the ground.
How closed-minded. How futile. How utterly disappointing.
She is quiet for the first hour, and rapidly becomes an unbearable nervous wreck after that. She paces aroud the edges of the garden; she stands still in random spots, arms crossed and feet tapping and intense concentration flitting on and off her face. Sometimes, her face scrunches up and her teeth grit and it's all she can do to not break down sobbing in public; sometimes, she doesn't even get that far.
Thankfully, she's not crying when she grabs your attention. She's frowning, gentle and soft - a mother's frown in every way. She's not mad, she's just disappointed. She waves in your direction, her movements calm and controlled, and when she's sure she has your attention she speaks. Her voice is soft but weighty, like she expects you to hear no matter how far apart you might be.
pluto ♇ | heaven will be mine
That's not really a helpful way to think about this situation, is it? But it's true. Undeniable, even. This place sucks and she- hates it? Is that the right word? No, no, that can't be right. She doesn't have room for hate in that heart of hers, after all. No, she pities it; she pities this place and everyone in it, deeply, irrevocably, like a still-oozing wound on her heart. Gravity means nothing here - it is fixed and stable, with no chance for individual intervention. it is artificial and human in the way that so many earthbound individuals like to brag about. It is absolute in its judgment; humans are animals, meant to stay on the ground.
How closed-minded. How futile. How utterly disappointing.
She is quiet for the first hour, and rapidly becomes an unbearable nervous wreck after that. She paces aroud the edges of the garden; she stands still in random spots, arms crossed and feet tapping and intense concentration flitting on and off her face. Sometimes, her face scrunches up and her teeth grit and it's all she can do to not break down sobbing in public; sometimes, she doesn't even get that far.
Thankfully, she's not crying when she grabs your attention. She's frowning, gentle and soft - a mother's frown in every way. She's not mad, she's just disappointed. She waves in your direction, her movements calm and controlled, and when she's sure she has your attention she speaks. Her voice is soft but weighty, like she expects you to hear no matter how far apart you might be.
"Can you feel it?"