WHOAH
BOIII. My heart is being attacked -clenches chest-
Drawing- (me) HotSpringTwins
Don’t Post without permission
A story a day.
BOIII. My heart is being attacked -clenches chest-
Drawing- (me) HotSpringTwins
Don’t Post without permission
I draw him closer, and feel his heart beat against my chest.
Sakura’s part reads:
何度冷たく突き放そうとも、サスケの凍てついた心に春の日差しを与えようとひたむきに爱してく れた 春野サクラ
Haruno Sakura - who, no matter how many times he coldly pushed her away, loved him earnestly, trying to give Sasuke’s freezing heart the spring sunlight.
Sakura’s part reads:
何度冷たく突き放そうとも、サスケの凍てついた心に春の日差しを与えようとひたむきに爱してく れた 春野サクラ
Haruno Sakura - who, no matter how many times he coldly pushed her away, loved him earnestly, trying to give Sasuke’s freezing heart the spring sunlight.
“If you saw Atlas, the giant who holds the world on his shoulders, if you saw that he stood, blood running down his chest, his knees buckling, his arms trembling but still trying to hold the world aloft with the last of his strength, and the greater his effort the heavier the world bore down upon his shoulders - What would you tell him?“ I…don’t know. What…could he do? What would you tell him?” To shrug.”
— Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged
3-year-old Sarada: *listens to Sakura's chest with a toy stethoscope*
Sakura: What's in there?
Sarada: Bees.
Sakura: I want a second opinion.
I wanted my chest to be the place sheβd rest her head against for the rest of her life.
It all goes wrong right around here.
When the doctors start looking at
you funny and whispering things
to your mother while you wait
in the hallway and try to understand
what you’ve done wrong.
You think you’ve got it figured out
when you’re eating dinner and
you’re not allowed to get up for seconds.It all goes wrong right around
here: you have poured the windstorm of your chest into the
palms of a boy who smells like pine needles but will never be your lover because he only likes
pretty girls
but one night when the stars
are spelling out stop signs
you both choose to ignore,
the two of you are half-drunk and
hellbent on making bad decisions
and when he kisses you,
your fingers stumble upon the blades of his hipbones
so much more defined than yours have ever been
an average of 1.8 people die every second and you discover
what it’s like to be that .8 of a person,
trapped between breathing and being buried and
the hounds that are devouring your heart
every minute
ask you how you dare to be soft
in the face of a boy who only falls for the sharpness of
porcelain angels -
you do not wake up next to him. you both pretend
it never happened.it all goes wrong around here:
the corner store where your mother
used to buy bathtubs of antiseptic
but never managed to actually clean out
the things growing inside your heart
but right now you’re standing in the aisle
where you’re clutching the birthday money
your grandmother sent you
in one gargoyle palm and
trying to decide between diet pills and
halloween candy and suddenly
it all swings around like
a baseball bat
like you’ve always kind of
been in the middle of a car crash and
the impact
just caught upso no one loves you. or no one’s
loved you the way you wanted them to.
it’s just a body, you say, looking in the mirror. it’s just a fucking body.
when you find an angle you like,
you wish Medusa was real. you wish she’d grab your face and keep you like that forever.
a statue. static and cold.
it all goes wrong. it all goes wrong.
it all goes wrong and you just want the cars to hit each other.
you just want to be still. to be stone.
