Bravery is fear. Bravery is reverence. Bravery is failing, failing, failing, and getting up to fail again. Bravery will not save you - it will not keep you warm, will not protect you, offers you no comfort when you are weak.
But you? You use it to comfort others where you never were. You fail to let others succeed. You will sacrifice everything for the sake of someone else.
When the time comes, there will be no shining glory. There will be no award. No one will lift you into their arms and bring you to safety; but you will know, if only for a moment, what it is like to be God.
I didn't think much of other people before the incident.
Humans are cruel; I am aware of that. Everybody is. Humans are cold, selfish, and prideful. Kids are self-centered and the ego they gain as they grow does them no favors.
Being a tree gives you a lot of time to think. A lot of time to miss the little things you had. I miss the taste of the apples I ate in the morning, miss the feeling of a soft blanket under my hands, miss the way my love's arms would wrap around me while we slept.
I don't know how I'm seeing what is happening around me. Feeling as a tree is very strange. I feel a squirrel running on my branches and the bugs crawling beneath my bark and the ivy winding its leaves around mine. There's so many sensations but also not. I normally feel like I'm asleep, but sometimes I'll wake up and just feel for a long time.
I don't really know where I am or how long it has been. There are sidewalks and people and a lot of dogs, so I think it is some kind of park. The days bleed together - the sky is always cloudy and there's enough street lights around that I can't always tell if it is night time unless I focus. It's peaceful this way, really. I don't know if I miss being human.
I don't know a lot of things these days. My thoughts aren't very clear and it takes a while for anything coherent to really form. I should probably be more worried about this, but that's not something a tree can manage, I guess.
I've learned a lot about people this way. I can feel the emotions behind their words and actions in a way I never had before. Friends have picnics in my shade, kids climb my branches, joggers stop to rest against my trunk. There's so much passion in everything they do. It's incredible, really.
A lady came by one day. She seemed to know that I could hear her? It was pretty lucky that I was awake, honestly, so if I wasn't she would've been talking to nothing. People stared at her weird anyways. I guess talking to random trees isn't normal, huh?
She asked me how I was doing and if I enjoyed my punishment. I didn't really understand; what was I being punished for? what was the punishment? It took a while for me to remember that I wasn't always a tree. I knew I had memories of a before, of a time where I lived as one of the humans, but memories don't work right as a tree. She was surprised. I don't know why. What was she expecting?
She asked if I had learned my lesson. Told me that they had stopped looking for me already... that they didn't care.
I'm the one that didn't care anymore. I am happy this way. No stress, no worries, nothing. Just passive observation and sleep. It was the most peaceful time of my life, I think.
I grew tired and started to lose my grip on hearing and sight, slowing slipping into sleep. the last thing I saw was the woman standing between my roots with a faraway look in her eyes. After that, I never saw her again.
You angered a witch, and in retaliation, she transformed you into an unmovable tree in a public park. Months later, she returns with the sinister hope of reveling in your suffering, only to find that you are not only surviving but thriving and happier than ever before.
Hello, it’s actually come as a shock to me that you are more than 50 years old. I had guessed you’d be somewhere around your late 30 (38.5 specifically) although I know that your works had been published earlier than what I guessed.
Anyways, just wanted to add we have the same birthday Friedrich Schiller so that’s cool!
My first books were published in 1985. I'm practically a historical artefact at this point.
there is literally so much drama happening inside of a lava lamp
cats love tupperware beds
Please I cannot keep going on like this. I need my daily fix of gay fanfiction. I hope they will be able to fix it soon. I cannot stand being alone with my own thoughts for so long 😭
hey hi 10.. uh no.. 200 notes and I clean my room no note limit but limit of 4 reblogs you can comment as much as u. Want tho.
To make sure this post doesn’t die I’m taggin the default people that pop up when I type @ soyeah
@rins-batcave @ferocioustrout @gelnanapass @raeprise
i'm SO laid back, i only care about like 3 things in the world:
my favorite fictional characters and music
every person on this earth and their opinion of me
the crushing psychological weight of being alive
she/they • • • • • you can call me nyoom, mymph, or anything that comes to mind • • • • • don't mind me! I'm just looking at art, animals, and funny things. I don't talk to people much but that's just the anxiety. I love conversation if you wanna chat! • • • • • (don't mind these dots, I haven't figured out how to space yet, lol)
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