catriona
@marchand
c2 seviye reading slump
he's dreamed of being able to say: "being human is to grieve, constantly." because what he really wants to know is: "how the hell do all the rest of you cope?"
"i love the way you paint, especially the cockroaches."
"i... i love the way you paint too! you... you're the whole reason i paint at all!"
"i'm not your reason, no one is your reason, your art is your own."
joar didn't know how to whisper, you can paint whatever the hell you like, as long as you paint, i'm just scared i'll lose you if you don't. the artist had no words either, because he didn't know how to explain to joar that his anxiety made him feel like he was drowning. that he was so scared that if he held on to his friends' hands, he would drag them down into the darkness.
the artist? he was good at seeing the beauty in everything, that happens if you're no good at seeing it in yourself. he didn't belong in school, he didn't belong in this town, he didn't belong in his own body. he had cried so much that spring when he was fourteen that his body felt hollow. everyone thought he was insecure simply because he was so quiet, but that was never the problem. it was the things he was absolutely certain of that were the problem: certain that he was worthless. certain that his friends were wrong about him. certain that he was going to disappoint everyone.
but his friends? all they wanted was to make him laugh.
"life is long, louisa. everyone will tell you that it's short, but they're lying. it's a long, long life."