quotes i like mostly probly because of my mommy issues
“Mother, make me, make me a big grey cloud so I can rain on you things I can’t say out loud.” Florence Welch
“Years later, I am seventeen. Half daughter, half apology, all fire and the wrong kind of love. When my mother asks if I am gay, I tell her I am sorry.” Blythe Baird
“Be my mother, I said to the trees, in the language of the trees which can’t be transcribed, and they shook their hair back and they bent low with their many arms and they looked into my eyes as only trees can look into the eyes of a person, they touched me with the rain on their fingers till I was all droplets, till I was a mist, and they said they would.” Emily Berry
“My mother is fruit soaked in alcohol. On good days, I call her sangria. The rest of the time, she’s just an alcoholic.” Natasha T. Miller
“Mother, I have pasts inside me I did not bury properly. Some nights, your daughter tears herself apart yet heals in the morning.” Ijeoma Umebinyuo
“I need a father, I need a mother, I need some older wiser being to cry to. I talk to God but the sky is empty.” Sylvia Plath
“If you are sorry that you broke my heart, then I am sorry I have you trapped in the mudroom at a frat party discussing what’s left of my mother’s hand.” Kevin Kantor
“My mother thinks I should come home at the weekends. Perhaps I should get more exercise. Perhaps I should get diagnosed. You don’t know what I’ve done in the small hours. You don’t know what I’ve done to cope.” Phoebe Stucks
“Baba and I lived in the same house, but in different spheres of existence.” Khaleed Hassein
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/// I decided to try and use they/them pronouns for both characters because I honest to gods couldn’t decide if they what or even if these characters would get a gender. The market seemed to be out of all the other pronouns so you get these, sorry if it’s confusing. I hope you like it :)///
For the first time in their life, Az stood still. Their breath visible in puffs of chilled air, chest heaving, they held a hand to their side, staunching the red trickling from their side as much as they could with only one free hand. The spear supporting half of their weight bowed slightly under the weight of keeping them upright.
The ceiling had long since fallen and the walls only stood in half of the places they once did, knocked down by cannon fire and explosions. Some bits of the scattered walls still smoked, though they would soon stop as snow covered them. The air bit into Az’s throat, their lungs were dry and felt like ripping under the pressure of trying to gulp down as much air as possible. A quiet voice stood out over the sound of surrounding battle, though the sounds of metal clashing and yelling seemed distant to that voice.
“It’s honestly just- It’s so satisfying to see you struggle to stand like that. After every time you laughed at me for falling on my ass when you’re the one who put me there.” Byx stepped from around a fallen piece of stone wall, boots crunching the snow.
“I can’t tell you how nice it is to be on the other end of this dynamic.”
Az tried to slow their breathing enough to give a comment back, when they made a sound it ripped up their throat like coiled wire and instead of words came coughing.
“Aw, no come back?” Byx no longer seemed amused at the predicament, disappointment lacing into the folds of their voice. A brief memory came to Az’s mind, a comment Byx had made a long time ago.
“How is it that mothers can just- seep emotional arsenic into their aura when they become annoyed? I can feel it from across a house and immediately know that ‘Oh god I have to get out of this house’, y’know?”
Did Byx know that they did the same thing? The it oozed from their stance, the way the stepped, the way their shoulders slumped slightly but their face turned hostile, no matter how much fake indifference they tried to dump on top?
Az finally caught their breath, taking a moment to breathe in slowly before they were able to speak.
“You think you get to play God an-”
“Playing. God.” Clean Dark boots took a slow, threatening step towards the spots of red in the snow at Az’s feet. “What about this,” They motioned around, arms spread in a gesture of showmanship. The crumbled buildings, the melted snow on the battlefield, the screams of dying men, “makes you think that I am only playing.” Az stared at Byx, eyes pulling slightly wider, breath catching in their throat as Byx’s voice changed out disappointment for anger and elation in equal parts. Their back and shoulders straightened and pulled back as they owned the carnage around them.
“Byx-” Az was cut off as Byx took another threatening step forward.
“I’m not playing,” they growled in the back of their throat. “I don’t need to ‘play God’. I’m acting as God, I’ve defeated God, remolding God, wiping away the face of God and making something better.” An edge of laughter crept into Byx’s voice. “Something in my own image.”
Az’s foot slid back half an inch before stopping, whether to escape this crazed version of their friend or to provide a sturdier stance to keep them on their feet longer neither could tell. Realization struck Az in that moment and it tumbled out of their lips before they could stop it.
“Insane? Or divine. I am the intervention of powers beyond even God’s comprehension. He didn’t do a good enough job, now I will take his place. Insane or divine… Mad, or genius? They’re all two sides of the same coin that you are, unfortunately, too nearsighted to comprehend.”
Az couldn’t pinpoint the moment they knew their friend was lost to them, but they knew Byx- or what used to be Byx - was gone. Whatever this… thing, was, it wasn’t their friend. It wasn’t who Az knew. And it was posing a threat to everything else they cared about.
The only thing left that could be done was to end it here. And if Az had to take it down with them, then that would be how Az finished what they started.
This is a poem to remind myself what my mother did was toxic. Thank you :)
She’s the sun.
She glows, radiant in the smallest hint of day, always there when I get out of bed in the morning. She’s the reason I see, the reason I live. The reason so much is alive.
But when I need her at the brink of dusk, she’s never there. She leaves me in the shallow void of night, alone to get eaten up by my own thoughts.
No, I must just be ungrateful. The sun gives me life. I need the sun. I must have the sun. The sun is not the problem, I am.
But when she’s finally there to support me, her overbearing effects me. My skin blisters and peels in the smoldering heat, suffocated by the sun’s power that once incased my happiness in its clutches.
No, I can deal with the blistering. The blistering is nothing. It doesn’t hurt at all. I need the sun. Now.
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